Fire, Ice, and Stone
by manganerd
Summary: COMPLETED Sequel to The Killing Wind. Because the curse endured for so long, its fallout still plagues the Shomas. Fruits BasketPetshop of HorrorsTokyo Babylon crossover
1. Prologue

Hello—I'm back with "Fire, Ice, and Stone," the Fruits Basket/Petshop of Horrors/Tokyo Babylon crossover! Thanks to those of you who've read everything, once again. For people checking this out for the first time, a few things:

If you have not done so, I'd recommend reading "The Killing Wind" first, because it'll help you understand the situation here better.

I changed a lot of things—the country, character names, and the Juunishi curse, among other things. If you don't like stories with that kind of extensive reworking, please don't leave nasty comments for me.

My updates will be slower since I've not actually finished writing "Fire," and I also have school...(go homework-NOT) I'll try to update once a week, though.

Hope you enjoy it! Please review if you wish :) I'm also willing to answer questions about anything you find confusing in my next update. Just a note: in this story, "Juunishi" is changed to "Dzuni," and the two children in this chapter are members of the Dzuni.

Disclaimer: FB, PSOH, and TB do not belong to me, nor does anything else you recognize.

**Fire, Ice, and Stone**

**Prologue**

"What three elements make up a flame tree?" The melodious, hypnotizing low voice asked the small boys huddled next to each other on the king-sized bed. A soft amber glow emanated from the delicate antique nightstand lamp, the only source of light in the darkened bedroom.

"We already know that, Seki," the boy nearest to the adult man pointed out. His normally white skin gained some rosy coloring from the lamp, but a bluish tinge clung stubbornly to his midnight-black hair.

"Yes, I know, Sharlen, but I am adding something new tonight," said Seki in his harsh accent, smiling indulgently. "Have patience. You are five now, and old enough to hear what I am about to tell you. Again, what three elements make up a flame tree?"

"Fire, ice, and stone." The staccato answer came from the child next to Sharlen.

"Very good, Khureno. And why those elements?" Seki's penetrating, narrow brown orbs focused on his charge's blurred figure. The child sat just outside the lamp's ring of light, as if taking shelter from the cold Hothan winter in the bed's safe embrace. Khureno had pulled the cover all the way to his chin, and sat up against two pillows piled behind his back.

"Their flowers burn with life, they survive in winter, and they stay in place even when the wind gets really high," recited Khureno automatically.

"Perfect again, Khureno. Now, Sharlen, what makes their flowers such a rich red?"

"Blood, of course," said Sharlen, grinning mischievously. "When are you getting to the new stuff?"

"Very soon, my little boy. Do you remember the next question, Sharlen?"

"Yeah. Why are the flame trees so important to Hoth?"

"And the answer is?"

"Because they are the life force of Hoth."

"Correct. As you two know, that is where I have always ended before. Now, do you know where the flame trees' life force comes from?" The strange new undertone in Seki's voice made Khureno whip his head around to look his guardian in the face. Golden eyes met unfathomable brown eyes. In the dimness, Seki's perfectly smooth face resembled a mask more than at any other time, rarely revealing any expressions besides a thin, indecipherable smile and an occasional amusement at Sharlen's antics.

"Me?" guessed Khureno, almost inaudibly. He shivered involuntarily, and then suppressed it. This unnamed aura around Seki had appeared before—invisible, but one that invoked feelings of dread and terror.

"Almost, Khureno. When you are older, you will be responsible for tending the trees. But you do not pass on any life force to them. No, the flame trees' power comes from the blood. That is what gives the blossoms such bright coloring, what allows the trees to live well into the bitterest of winters, and what anchors their roots firmly into the ground during haríthes."

"And where does this blood come from?" Sharlen asked, despite Khureno's discomfort. Sharlen, too, detected the subtle change in Seki's aura, and the hair on his neck rose.

"Good question, Sharlen, but I have already gone as far as I wished to tonight. I will leave you and Khureno to think about that question until you are old enough for me to reveal the answer."

"Please, Seki, I'd like to know," requested Khureno, curiosity relentlessly propelling him.

"I'm sorry, Khureno and Sharlen. I cannot say yet," said Seki, shaking his head gently. His waist-length braid rustled against his loose-fitting Zi Aldan cotton shirt. The dark green fabric complemented his tan skin.

"Just one more question," begged Khureno, regarding Seki with a mixture of awe and fright. "Are we human?"

Seki, who had risen to his feet from the bed's comfortable edge, stopped. His hands lay across his midsection, folded into each other. It was his customary posture. After calmly regarding both Khureno and Sharlen for a protracted time, he gave them his mystery smile and spoke. "A fascinating question, my little darlings. Are the Dzunis human? That depends on what view of humans you adopt. Here in Hoth, being human saves you from succumbing in despair to this godforsaken weather." Seki made no secret of his preference for temperate Zi Alda. "Hothans make and break relationships every day, and gossip about it. They live on relationships, which distracts them from the ice, wind, and snow. At the same time, Hothans still appeal to animal deities to control the weather, and help them snare the loves of their lives. Hothans use animals for fortunetelling and determining a newborn's personality traits. In Hoth, the Dzunis are a perfect mix of human and animal.

"It is similar in Mougoth, eastern Gogotha, where jungle dwellers depend on a close partnership with nature. There, humans tend to see animals as sacred, and as their equals in the environment. That is easy when the weather is so wet and warm, and food and water exist in great abundance.

"West Gogotha, however, is not such an easy place to live. They have very hot summers, and very cold winters. Survival becomes a more savage matter. The Tsaavo people accept for a fact that animals have the upper hand as predators, and that they are prey." Seki glanced pointedly at Sharlen. "After all, lowly humans do not possess fangs, claws, wings, sharp hearing, nighttime vision, or any of those sort of things. It says much that humans must have weapons in order to win a battle against predators, and even guns can fail in such situations.

"Zi Aldans, perhaps, have the worst views about humans. Although they will not admit so now, Zi Aldans worshipped animal gods a very long time ago. Their myths say that one day, a small group of lesser gods tried to overthrow the Great Deity, and failed. The Great Deity banished them from the mountains, and sent them into the valleys and plains. He stripped them of their god-like powers, and transformed them into humans. He sent half-humans, half-animals called the _borustange_ to watch the new humans. Humans, then, are disgraced former animals in Zi Alda."

Seki paused. "And now it really is getting late, dear children. You must sleep. Good night." He bent down and switched the lamp off, plunging the room into darkness. No windows existed to let in moonlight or any outside light into the room.

"Good night, Seki," said Khureno quietly, watching his guardian's shadow vanish into the darkness. Sharlen's purplish-red eyes, perfectly adapted for nighttime vision, only looked at Seki's back with a new suspicion.


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: FB, PSOH, and TB do not belong to me, nor does anything else you recognize. Danke schoen!

A little bad language here, but nothing out of the ordinary—my Leon Orcot-based character makes his debut here. :)

**Chapter 1**_—Lhasa, Spring_

The humble black police car crawled along in rush hour traffic on Sonu Street. Its driver, Ashu Rhezanu, stared at the endless line of cars ahead of him, his anger swelling.

"God damn it," he yelled, "why does Chief have to give me a new partner now?" The steering wheel shuddered as he banged it. "Fuck!" Rhezu, as everyone knew him, spotted an unopened beer bottle at the foot of the passenger seat. He bent over and picked it up. The liquid had warmed long ago, but it didn't matter now.

Rhezu was just returning from the funeral of his partner, who'd died in a shoot-out a week ago. Hegu had been a good friend, a very likeable fellow. The worst part was telling Hegu's fiancée what had happened. Rhezu swilled a healthy amount of beer to blot out the memory. The irony of a policeman drinking while driving struck him, but he figured that a baby could crawl faster than this hellish traffic.

Most of the funeral attendees went straight home, but Rhezu had to return to the police headquarters to meet his newly assigned partner—hence his being trapped in traffic. The long wait gave him too much time to think about the funeral, and the weather didn't improve things, either. As he gulped the last of the beer, raindrops tapped against his windshield. The wipers groaned into action and grated against the tempered glass.

"Damn, I'm out of wiper fluid," mumbled Rhezu. The rhythmic screeching lessened a little when the rainfall increased. Rhezu peered out of his window; he'd gone past the hospital. Headquarters wasn't much further now.

The despondent day seemed like a perfect precursor to the anniversary of his mother's death, the coming Saturday. She'd died from complications after giving birth to his brother, Kedi. Rhezu was eighteen when it happened, and five years had passed since then. Launching into another round of cursing, Rhezu realized he hadn't bought a present for Kedi yet. He found it difficult to think of it as Kedi's birthday, rather than the day he lost his mother.

Thinking of cheap present possibilities consumed the rest of the tedious drive to headquarters. Policemen's salaries went up after Shoma Hatsuharu, a cousin of Rhezu's father, became mayor of Lhasa, but not by enough to afford much luxury besides food and rent. Many of Rhezu's seniors, including Chief, habitually talked about the old days when cops barely scraped by on pennies, and frequently accepted bribes to pay the bills.

Finally, Rhezu turned right into the station's parking lot. Most people had already left for home, and only a handful of cars remained. Pulling his jacket over his head, Rhezu rushed through the rain to get inside. The institutional yellow lightings illuminated two rows of empty desks, littered with papers and folders. Because he was a detective, Rhezu had a desk in the enclosed area behind the main lobby. Twenty-three was very young for a detective, but his talent had earned him an early promotion, thanks to initiatives to weed out corrupt cops. He walked across the room, and into the hallway that led to Chief's office.

"Ashu? Is that you?" called his boss in his trademark gruff voice. "Get your butt in here!"

"Yes, sir," responded Rhezu, trotting into Chief's office. Chief was a heavyset man in his mid-50's. His completely bald head and piercing look easily commanded obeisance from his juniors.

"Sit down, boy," ordered Chief, gesturing to the wooden chair in front of his desk. The Chief looked at Rhezu, and asked soberly, "The funeral went well?"

Rhezu nodded. For a fleeting moment, sympathy crossed Chief's eyes. "Shame to lose him," said Chief, who immediately resumed a no-nonsense tack. "But we'll get you right back on the job. No use in letting a good detective moon around. I wanted to talk to you first, before I introduce you to your new partner." Chief nodded towards the window. "Take a look into the filing room."

A large panoramic window took up the office's right wall, and it overlooked the filing room, where all the police reports were stored. Row after row of filing cabinets dominated the chamber. Rhezu saw a lone figure standing in the center row, skimming through papers. The tall stranger's purple hair caught Rhezu's glance first, and then his willowy build.

"I know he looks odd, boy," chuckled Chief, seeing Rhezu's incredulous stare, "but he's one of our best detectives, along with you."

"Hey, I've heard of him," declared Rhezu. "Isn't he the one who works eighteen hours a day and never talks to anybody unless it's necessary?" He watched his new partner close the cabinet and walk away.

"Same fellow, but I won't hold you to working that long."

"Come on, Chief! How can I work with someone like that?"

"Oh, I think you're well suited for each other," Chief said, smiling. "Besides, I can't think of anyone else who stands a chance of being able to work with him. He can be a bit difficult, Rhezu, but he's a fine person." Chief became serious and fixed an intent look upon Rhezu. "You probably think no one can replace Hegu, Rhezu, but that kind of thinking won't help you."

"Well, the guy looks like a woman," muttered Rhezu sulkily. A knock sounded on the door.

"Come in, Shoma," called the chief. The door opened to reveal a wiry, angular man of Rhezu's age, dressed in jeans and a plain dark red t-shirt. The lush hair was bound in a low ponytail. His triangular face came to a clear point at his chin, and burning, slanted gray eyes sat under thin, graceful brows that contrasted with the sharp points and angles evident throughout his body. The new arrival examined Rhezu disdainfully.

"Ashu, this is Shoma Tatara," said Chief. "Your new partner. Shoma, this is Ashu Rhezanu." Tatara jerked forward quickly in what Rhezu supposed to be a bow, and Rhezu returned it more slowly. Both watched the other with wary eyes.

After Rhezu and Tatara left for patrol the next morning, their coworkers immediately started placing bets on how long the duo would last. The longest time period offered was one week. The entire department looked forward to watching an entertaining feud unfold before them.

Out in the parking lot, Tatara gaped speechlessly at Rhezu's car. Then he massaged his temples, muttering under his breath in a language that sounded familiar to Rhezu.

"Is there something wrong with my car?" asked Rhezu defensively. "I'll have you know it's a top-notch car."

"Top-notch?" repeated Tatara. "Look at it more carefully, Ashu."

Rhezu looked, and to his chagrin, saw all too clearly the innumerable dents in both ends, the countless scratches from poor parking jobs, and a dull paint begging for a decent wash. One of the department jokers had written "WASH ME" in the back window's grime. The car was parked slantwise across the lines. "Maybe it needs a touchup," said Rhezu, glowering at Tatara.

"I should've expected nothing less after seeing the horror of your desk," remarked Tatara. "How foolish of me to think better of your car. We'd better go." With that matter-of-fact pronouncement, Tatara opened the door and settled into the passenger seat. Grinding his teeth fiercely, Rhezu got into the car, only to have his empty beer bottle thrust into his face.

"What are you doing, drinking in a car?" demanded Tatara. "You, a cop? Gods, I'm endangering my life enough as it is!"

Rhezu's temper had reached its limit. "Now listen to me, pal," he growled in a low voice, "my partner and good friend died, and I had to go to his funeral yesterday. I prefer warm beer to death, so get off my back!"

Tatara blinked in surprise, and calmly dropped the bottle in the backseat. "I'm sorry. I didn't know about your friend."

"Aw, fuck it," exhaled Rhezu, and he pulled out of the parking spot, narrowly missing the neighboring cars.

Detectives usually spent two days a week out on patrol. The theory was that making the detectives do some of the same work as regular officers helped keep down the level of heckling between the two groups. It didn't work, of course—it only made the detectives complain about their workload, and the officers complained that the detectives were trampling on their turf.

Rhezu liked patrol, though; he occasionally missed the action from chases and shoot-outs that weren't so common for detectives. His father had been relieved at Rhezu's promotion to detective precisely because it meant he wouldn't be exposed to such dangers as much.

Today the new partners had to cruise Binu and Ghunene, the two poorest neighborhoods of Lhasa. Binu was slightly better off; at least it sat right on top of the seaside cliffs, which made for a better view. Both Rhezu and Tatara would have to remain alert, but the mere sight of their car compelled residents to be more cautious anyway.

However, both areas proved unusually law-abiding on this particular day. For the first two hours, only the noise of planes to and from nearby Haresuroka Airport disturbed the silence inside the police car. When Rhezu's anger dissipated as lunchtime approached, he decided to venture a few questions to Tatara. He'd sat in an impassive silence the entire time, watching the passing scenery with hawk-like eyes. Rhezu didn't doubt that few things escaped Tatara's gaze.

"Tatara?" The man turned his head, looking alertly at Rhezu. "So, where are you from?"

The gray eyes narrowed. For the first time, it occurred to Rhezu that Tatara's eye color matched Shoma Hatsuharu's exactly. "Surely my records told you that I come from Lhasa, like you," responded Tatara, who resumed his surveillance.

Rhezu resisted saying that he'd never seen a Hothan who resembled Tatara, but instead asked, "Do you know the Shomas, by any chance?"

"Who?"

" 'Who?' Come on, you're a cop! Of course you should've heard of _the_ Shomas! They're the most powerful family in Hoth! Hell, one of them is Lhasa's mayor."

Tatara kept staring out the window. "Yes, the Shomas. I remember now. No, I'm not related to the family. My surname being the same is merely a coincidence." Rhezu's attempts to further question Tatara came to no avail, and he gave up.

They continued in this queer silence for the rest of the afternoon. Evening fell, and the end of their shift neared. A steady rainfall began. Rhezu guided the car to Enugi Street, which ran alongside the cliff edges. "Only half an hour to go," he mumbled. Tatara nodded absentmindedly, gazing at the deep bluish-gray expanse of the Sea of Zi Alda. It was fading away as the darkness outside increased. Rhezu glanced at his partner, and noticed that there was a faraway look. By now he'd observed Tatara long enough to know that he rarely spaced out. Tatara seemed to always be on guard against an invisible enemy.

"Y'know, the sea's much better in the daytime, when you can see it," remarked Rhezu casually.

"I only know the sea as it appears under the moon, not the sun."

Before Rhezu could reply to this strange statement, the radio crackled. "Robbery underway, Enugi 2237," said the dispatcher's voice. Both detectives immediately snapped to attention—they were closest to that address. Right away Tatara spotted the getaway car waiting on the same side of the road as they. The robber was just rounding the car to the passenger side when the two cops approached. The driver unhesitatingly peeled away before his friend could get inside.

"Some pal," grumbled Rhezu, pulling his gun out. The unfortunate criminal stood stranded, his shocked face brightly illuminated by the police car's headlights.

"Police!" yelled Tatara, ducking behind his open door and pointing his sturdy pistol at the robber. Rhezu did the same. "Drop your weapon!" The bewildered man obeyed, but suddenly turned and started running.

Cursing savagely and leaping out from behind the car door, Rhezu began to chase the robber. Sirens in the distance attested to the imminent arrival of backup forces.

"You idiot, Ashu! Stop!" Rhezu ignored Tatara's order, however, and kept running. He prided himself on his speed. The distance between him and the robber disappeared quickly. They reached a point when Enugi Street turned away from the cliff's edge, and a small park began. The grass was slick from the recent rain, and the wetness had transformed the soil into mud.

Rhezu panted with the adrenaline of the chase, as he prepared to tackle the man. He was aware of nothing else while he concentrated on timing his jump correctly. Just as his leg muscles tensed up for the big push forward, he saw the criminal's feet suddenly shoot from under him. Too late, Rhezu realized that in the darkness, they'd stupidly hugged the cliff closely. Rhezu attempted to throw his body towards land, but the wet ground betrayed him as he, too, followed the robber over the edge.

While Rhezu fell, all he heard was the rumbling of the sea below him, and not the hapless robber's unbroken screaming. Rhezu's body seemed to float in midair as he slowly processed the fact that he was about to die. A rough jerk at his ankle rudely interrupted this thought process, and Rhezu felt his body's velocity decrease. Below, a sickening splat occurred as the robber crashed into the boulders below.

A horrendous scraping sound filled the air, making Rhezu wince. At last, Rhezu's body stopped falling completely. Sharp pain throbbed where a short shower of stony debris had made contact with Rhezu. A viselike grip mercilessly squeezed Rhezu's ankle, which was beginning to ache.

"Ashu?" Tatara's voice rose over the sea, its murmuring ominously louder now than at the top of the cliff. "Are you conscious?"

Blinking, Rhezu discovered that he was hanging upside down, and that Tatara was somehow managing to hold onto his ankle and the cliff wall at the same time. "Yeah," Rhezu finally choked out.

"You need to reach up and grab my legs," said Tatara. "I won't drop you."

With a loud grunt, Rhezu heaved his torso forward, and clutched Tatara's pant leg the first time. As soon as he had a good enough grip on Tatara's legs, Tatara released Rhezu's ankle. "Now climb up my body, and wrap your legs and arms around me as best as you can," instructed Tatara.

Rhezu obeyed, only starting to wonder how it was possible for Tatara to do this. "Keep your eyes closed so they don't get hurt," ordered Tatara. "I will start climbing up the cliff now. Don't talk; I need to concentrate."

A rhythmic crunching and groaning of rock occurred as Tatara scaled the cliff. Rhezu felt immensely powerful shoulder muscles pulsing with each reach upwards, and he marveled at his new partner's amazing strength. He was using only his arms, and with another person riding his back. Tatara's stringy body gave no visible evidence of such ability.

As they neared the top, they heard the chatter and bustle of policemen. Clearly Rhezu and the robber had left visible tracks in their chase, for the backup cops had congregated in the spot where they fell.

"Hey!" yelled Tatara. "Help us!" Three flashlights simultaneously shined upon the climbers, and Rhezu saw that the top was only three feet away. A few minutes later, both Tatara and Rhezu sat safely on the ground, far from the edge. Fellow policemen attended to their cuts and scratches, Rhezu breathing heavily, but Tatara having hardly broken a sweat. Tatara brushed off incredulous questions about their close brush with death by saying, "We were very lucky."

Fifteen minutes and several bandages later, Rhezu settled into the passenger seat of his car. His skin still stung where falling stones had hit him, but his mind was working normally again. After Tatara got behind the wheel and drove away from the crime scene, Rhezu began interrogating him. "Are you a _borustang_?"

Tatara's ears perked. "I'm surprised you actually know about them," he said cautiously.

"Uh…I took Zi Aldan in high school," explained Rhezu. "I'm not as friggin' stupid as you might think." While it was technically true that he had studied Zi Aldan, that was not where he heard about the _borustange_.

"I never thought that you were stupid," Tatara responded mildly. "Yes, I'm a _borustang_." The _borustange_ were creatures unique to Zi Alda—half-human and half-animal. They could change between their human and animal forms, like the merpeople of Mougoth. A _borustang_ in animal form had a hawk's head set on a supple but strong neck, and a torso and abdomen similar to a whippet, but larger in scale. Wings attached to their backs, and four wiry legs supported the body. The legs moved in a fashion more similar to that of a chimpanzee on all fours. _Borustange_ were clumsier on the ground than in the air, but their deadly claws made up for the difference. These claws were virtually unbreakable, and could easily sever a limb instantaneously. The normal coloring of a _borustang _was purple, but blue ones appeared every so often.

Hothans knew little about these secretive creatures, and there were few of them in Hoth. Several years ago, rumors of a violent conflict between the _borustange_ and humans in Zi Alda flew around Lhasa, but they faded away quickly. As a result, _borustange _possessed a lot of mystique for Hothans.

The car stopped at a red light, and Rhezu silently admitted to himself that Tatara was a gentler driver than he. At the sound of throat-clearing, Rhezu focused on Tatara, who said in a hushed voice, "I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anybody what I am."

"Am I the only one who knows? Not even Chief knows?" Tatara shook his head. "Sure, I'll stay quiet. But at least now I know the purple hair's real." A chuckle escaped from Tatara. "You ever heard of the Dzuni?" Rhezu purposefully spit out the question so quickly that a normal person might miss it.

He got the reaction he was hoping for—Tatara's shoulders twitched. "Y'know, the twenty-six Dzuni?" asked Rhezu again.

"What about them?" The cool voice betrayed none of the nervousness Tatara had shown a moment ago. "I've heard about the constellations."

Rhezu smiled, pleased with himself. "You must be the _borustang_ of the Dzuni. I noticed you have no scratches at all from the cliff. Your body heals itself, doesn't it? A regular _borustang_ can't do that, but the Dzuni one can. Besides, you're the right age to be one of the missing Dzuni."

Tatara's calm façade melted away, and he pulled into a mostly empty public parking lot. When the engine turned off, he slowly twisted his body so that he was fully facing Rhezu. "I see your mind's been busy, Ashu. How do you know about the Dzuni?"

"My father, Khezuke, is the boar," said Rhezu. "I'm one of the Shomas, and I've met all the members of the Dzuni. The ones out in the open, that is."

"Hmm, yes, you do look like the boar," observed Tatara. A silence fell over them.

"So…why aren't you at the Shoma estate? What happened?" prompted Rhezu.

"No!" The vehemence in Tatara's answer shocked Rhezu. "You must not ask me that."

"But…" Rhezu's protest died when he felt the gray eyes boring deep into his head. "Okay, I'll shut up." For now, Rhezu added to himself.

"Good. We'll go." The car roared back to life, and within the minute they were on the street again.

"Tatara?"

"Yes?"

"Call me Rhezu. 'Ashu' makes me sound like a sneeze, and I hate it."

"Fine. Why don't we stop at a bar? We're off duty, and you just had a near-death experience," suggested Tatara.

"You want to go to a bar?" Rhezu stared at Tatara, incredulous.

"So you can drink," said Tatara. "Not me. Alcohol tends to make _borustange_ murderous."

"Oh," was all Rhezu said. While sitting at a red light, Tatara suddenly turned to Rhezu with a challenging look.

"Still think I look too much like a woman?" He laughed at Rhezu's sulk. "You ought to know, we _borustange_ have excellent hearing, too."


	3. Chapter 2

This chap starts to explain the connection between this story and "Killing Wind." By the way, I just want to say that I don't go into detail concerning the dietary habits of the Dzuni who appear here—just a blanket statement for the future... :)

Disclaimer: FB, PSoH, and TB do not belong to me, nor does anything else you recognize.

**Chapter 2**—_Hareth, Two Nights Later_

The ornate streetlights curved, and momentarily Sigeshomi Halina thought she was looking through a tunnel whose sides were decorated with paintings of Hareth's neighborhoods. Then the images righted themselves again, and Halina blinked. She stumbled on a crack in the pavement, and leaned against the tavern's wall to orient herself properly.

As she recovered her breath, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the window. Her brown hair lay plastered onto her face and head, the result of another woman accidentally spilling her beer onto Halina during the party. At least her one good dress was still intact. Halina's fair complexion now shone a bright red from excitement and alcohol. Her light spring coat hung off one shoulder. She checked quickly, and saw her purse in her left hand. Good. She hadn't forgotten it.

Halina set off again. Her apartment building was only two blocks away from the tavern, where her good friend had hosted a party to celebrate getting engaged. The party had been wonderful, but if Halina had drunk one more cup of beer, she would be throwing up on the sidewalk now. She passed a more unfortunate stranger doing precisely that. Tavern Row, as this neighborhood was known, always boomed with loud music and drunken, unintelligible yelling on Friday and Saturday nights. A year in Hareth had been long enough for Halina to become accustomed to the noise, and to learn to dodge the vomit while she walked.

Maybe I should've waited to walk home with a friend, thought Halina dully as she gazed resentfully at the hill her building sat on top of. No, I'll be all right, she concluded, starting the trek up the hill. Hareth might have excellent opportunities for junior editors like her, but it had too many hills. Still, Hareth's cultural community suited her much better than her hometown of Lhasa, to the north.

Halina's steps wavered again, and she veered into an alleyway. A trash bag tripped her, and she fell face up onto the ground. Before she could register it, a shadow appeared over her face. A large hand covered her mouth. Halina felt something pinch the juncture of her neck and chest, and she passed out.

_The Next Morning_

A sea of reddish purple greeted Halina's eyes when she finally woke. Her eyelids had apparently gained a ton's worth in weight, and it took effort just to open them. She forced her eyes to keep open for a few minutes. Halina's brain gradually cleared, as did her vision, and she eventually realized that she was looking at a hideously purple ceiling. Two small square windows let in the morning light.

Where am I, she wondered groggily, and who paints their ceiling that color? A sharp pain rippled through her head and neck when she tried to turn her head. "Yi!" In her reflexive reaction, her hands jerked and brushed against something soft. It was a worn but comfortable quilt, an old-fashioned granny square kind. Halina found it oddly comforting in the room, which, she found to her horror, had entirely purple walls as well. Carefully setting her head against the pillow again, she experimented with moving her arms. It didn't cause any pain, so she raised one hand to her neck. The presence of gauzy material indicated that a thick bandage had been wrapped around her neck, but not so tightly that she couldn't breathe.

"Oh, you're awake," observed a bass voice from behind her. Halina yelped as the pain burned from her involuntary twitch at the new sound. "It's okay, we won't hurt you," said the voice hurriedly, slurring some of the sounds. "You shouldn't be moving much now, anyway." The man finally moved into her field of vision, and his unhurried movements reminded Halina of a cat about to take his afternoon nap in the sun. Halina first saw his broad back, sheathed in a thin light blue hekasho. He walked to the far end of the couch so that Halina wouldn't have to strain her neck to see him.

When she saw his face, she changed her previous image of a cat to a lion. His skin was perfectly tanned, and a lush sprout of light tawny hair framed his face. Even his eyebrows were the same unusual tawny color, and stood out clearly against his darker skin and brown eyes. Halina found herself a little disappointed that such a handsome specimen had regular brown eyes like an average Hothan. Fleetingly, she wondered whether he was single or not, then chastised herself. Her grandmother had been nagging her too much about getting a husband recently.

"I'll change your bandage," said the man, just avoiding direct eye contact with Halina.

"What…happened…to me?" Halina finally overcame her tongue's unwillingness to cooperate.

A chair scraped on the floor as the man tugged it into position next to Halina. "Er…when you fell in the alley last night, something accidentally pierced your neck. You've lost a lot of blood. That's why you need to rest now." Halina heard the sound of rustling from bandages, and the rattling of scissors. "This may hurt a little."

Her unknown savior began to undo her old bandage. She distracted herself by silently mulling over the vague explanation he'd given her, and she couldn't shake the feeling that something was odd. Why was she here, rather than in a hospital? Especially if that much blood stained the bandages he was taking off of her neck now…her eyes widened at the sight.

"Don't worry." The man had noticed her alarm. "You'll be fine if you made it this far, as long as you don't strain yourself. Your wound isn't opening again, which is good." He applied alcohol to the wound, and Halina breathed deeply through the stinging sensation. "Can you get up on your elbows? Good—that'll make it easier for me to put the new bandage on."

The next ten minutes passed in silence, as he passed a roll of gauze around and around her neck. Halina thought he was being rather dainty about it, like he was afraid of touching her skin. She lay back gratefully when he finished, because her head was starting to spin.

"What's your name?"

"Eh?" He placed the medical supplies back on a small table behind Halina's head.

"Your name. What is it?"

His cheeks reddened slightly, and he hesitated. "Um, well, that is…"

"Mind your manners now, Dhuzel," scolded a new voice, in a fake high-pitched tone. The voice had a weak quality to it, as though the person had been sick recently. Its owner walked over to Dhuzel, and placed his hands on the big man's shoulders. "Halina, please excuse Dhuzel here. He doesn't see enough women, so he's tongue-tied. Cute, isn't he?" The newcomer winked at Halina.

"Sharlen!" growled Dhuzel, twisting around and glaring forcefully at his friend. During the two-minute spat that ensued, both men failed to notice Halina gaping at Sharlen.

"You…" Halina finally gasped, "you look just like him!"

"Eh?" Dhuzel unclenched his fist.

"Oh, I meant Sharlen," babbled Halina. "Sorry, you look just like my great-grandfather who passed away last year…" Shoma Shehure had been quite ancient, and once was the last Dzuni dog under the infamous family curse. It occurred to Halina that Sharlen's playfulness was the same as Shehure's.

They stared at Halina, and then Sharlen burst into laughter. "Oh, dear, Dhuzel, I've outdone myself this time, haven't I? That would explain why you made me ill, my little lady."

"Sharlen, no!" remonstrated Dhuzel, alarmed.

"Relax. I can tell she's already making the connection." Dhuzel closed his mouth, and retreated into a tense silence. Sharlen pulled up a severely scratched wooden chair. "We should introduce ourselves properly, Halina. I'm Shoma Sharlen, and this Shoma Dhuzel."

"How do you know my name? Did you look in my purse?" demanded Halina.

"Don't worry, all your money's there. We're not thieves," reassured Sharlen. "So, you're a Shoma?"

"No, first tell me how I ended up here."

Dhuzel desperately shook his head at Sharlen. This mysterious behavior was beginning to irritate Halina, and her head started to throb. "We have to," she heard Sharlen whisper to Dhuzel, "we can't let her go now, anyway. We might as well tell her."

"What do you mean, you can't let me go? I have ears, you know." Turning her head daintily so as not to unduly disturb her injury, she focused on the two men. She noticed that Sharlen's skin was absolutely white, with a distinct bluish tinge to his lips and eyelids. For the first time Halina felt a small flicker of fear, as she looked at him. His skin looked far too pallid for a live human.

"Oh, you've noticed my sickly appearance," said Sharlen, smiling. "You see, Halina, I'm a vampire, and I need to feed on human blood once a month. I'd hoped to feed on you last night, but things went wrong, obviously. I'll look much handsomer once I've fed properly."

Her brain processed Sharlen's words more slowly than usual. "Vampire? Are you a Dzuni?" In the recesses of her mind, her voice of reason screamed at her for not panicking in the abode of two murderous, or possibly insane, men.

"Hey, she knows about us!" Sharlen gleefully announced to Dhuzel, who only squirmed in his chair. "How'd you hear about the Dzuni?"

"My mother is the aunt of the wolf, and she also knew him when he was in high school," explained Halina uncertainly. "Mother is close to him, and I eventually got to know him and the other Dzuni very well." She stopped, not wanting to say more.

"Really?" An almost wisful look replaced the playfulness on Sharlen's face, and even Dhuzel showed a keen interest in Halina's words.

"It's your turn to do some explaining," said Halina curtly. "You tried to kill me, after all."

Dhuzel cut off Sharlen. "Halina, don't be afraid of us, we won't hurt you. Ah…well, our guardian put a spell on Sharlen and me to keep us from accidentally eating our own relatives. If we do so, we become ill very quickly."

"Yep, I've been vomiting your blood up all night," confirmed Sharlen, grinning.

"She doesn't need to know that, numbskull!" yelled Dhuzel, pushing Sharlen off his chair. Ignoring Sharlen's whining, Dhuzel turned back to Halina. "Er, I should probably say that I also feed on humans." He faltered. "I'm not a vampire like Sharlen—I eat human flesh, not blood. But only once every other month, not every month like Sharlen."

"Humph," snorted Sharlen, getting back in place. "Yes, Dhuzel has higher morals than I do," he added sardonically, earning a murderous glance from Dhuzel. "But the bottom line is, Halina, you're safe now. Stop worrying, and we'll take care of you."

Their sick patient pondered their words, her face becoming increasingly glazed over. "You're cannibals," she said.

"No, not cannibals—maneaters is the proper term for us," corrected Sharlen.

"This has to be a dream…I'm drunk and I passed out…" mumbled Halina, eyelids drooping. Her lips kept moving, the sounds becoming more incoherent.

"You should rest now," said Dhuzel gently. Halina closed her eyes, and sank into a deep sleep. He pulled the quilt up to her chin.

By the time she awoke late that night, Halina felt much more alert and refreshed. Slowly, she sat up. The dizziness lasted a few seconds, and then dissipated rapidly. An ache in her lower torso told her she needed to pee very badly.

"Dhuzel? Sharlen?" she called, not trusting her legs completely. Firm footsteps trotted towards the room, and Dhuzel burst through the door. "Relax," said Halina. "I just need to go to the bathroom, but I could use some help."

"Of course." Dhuzel took her outstretched hand, and lifted her up. Halina leaned into him, and he put his arm around her waist for stabilization. As she'd thought, her legs wobbled with each step.

"How chivalrous, Dhuzel," commented Sharlen, seated at a round plastic table in the kitchen.

"Oh, shut up," snapped Dhuzel, leading Halina away from the kitchen, and into a dark hallway. At the end was a flight of stairs going downstairs, and a small door opened to the left—the bathroom. To her relief and surprise, Halina found the bathroom fully functional and clean. After paying so many business visits to various bachelor writers on her workload, she'd developed a firm conviction that men's bathrooms were miniature disaster areas.

When she came out, Sharlen called out, "Halina, would you like to sit and chat for a while?"

"All right," said Halina. "My head feels fine." Dhuzel led her into the kitchen, and helped her into a chair at the table. "Well, I must say this kitchen is nice and spacious. By the way, which one of you painted that room purple?"

They both laughed. "Oh, that's not our fault," said Dhuzel somewhat sheepishly. "The people who sold this house to us were bad artists. You should see some of the other rooms downstairs—they're even worse."

"Oh, this is a real house? Not just an apartment?" asked Halina.

"Yes. We need a place with enough space for a freezer." Sharlen sipped his glass deliberately.

"A freezer? Oh…" The reason why dawned upon Halina as she took in the impressive yet disturbing array of knives, cleavers, and a saw or two in the racks next to the refrigerator. Dhuzel followed her look and gulped.

"By the way, it's safe for you to look in the refrigerator. Nothing alarming in there," said Sharlen. "We eat human foods, like sausages and beef, most of the time. Are you a vegetarian?" When Halina shook her head, Sharlen added, "Good, because neither Dhuzel nor I like non-meat foods much. We have some fruits and veggies though."

"Can you…" Halina paused, noticing the drink in Sharlen's hand for the first time. It was a deep scarlet, almost purple, and gave off a bitter smell.

"This?" Sharlen raised his glass. "Yes, it's blood. Dhuzel found it in the back of the freezer while you slept. It's still good, so I don't have to go out and off somebody. Dhuzel thought it would be less awkward if we didn't bring in a body while you were here."

Halina smirked appreciatively. "Thanks, I guess." Sharlen's cheeks, although still pale, now appeared rosier and no longer resembled those of a corpse.

"Are you hungry? You should keep up your strength," said Dhuzel.

Her stomach growled loudly, which made her blush. "I could use something," admitted Halina.

"We should still have some pot roast," mused Dhuzel, rummaging through the packed refrigerator. "That's a good source of iron." The next several minutes passed in silence, as Halina ate the leftovers ravenously. They weren't such bad cooks, these men, she thought.

"So, Sharlen and Dhuzel, you have no choice about the canni…I mean, er, maneating?"

"Very good, you remembered," nodded Sharlen approvingly. "And no, we have no choice but to eat humans. Our Dzunis are predators with very close ties to the Tsaavo region in Gogotha, and to them, humans are just like any other animal: fit for consumption."

"What are your Dzunis?"

"I'm a wolf," answered Sharlen, "but my animal form is much better-looking than the ghost wolf. I have no ugly bald spots in my fur, for example. Dhuzie here is a lion."

Halina frowned thoughtfully. "I'm trying to figure out why I'm not freaking out as much as I should be."

"Well, you know about the Dzuni," offered Sharlen. "And perhaps you've secretly got the soul of a Tsaavan? Maneating animals don't titillate them as much as Hothans."

"I guess so," concurred Halina. Something still nagged at her. "Eh, I'll remember later. I have a more important question: how did you two become separated from the Shomas?"

As the child of Shoma Shala, the aunt of Shoma Haku, the "ghost wolf" of the Dzuni, Halina was privy to the series of mysterious disappearances that had started twenty-four years ago. She was two years old when the first ones occurred: the baby boy of the dragon and snake, Hotohori and Khosure; then Haku and Ashitare's own child a month later. The disappearances continued until eight or nine years later. There hadn't been one since then.

The pattern was the same each time. The baby disappeared within a week of his or her birth. Eventually the Dzunis reached a point when they celebrated if a child remained with its parents longer than a week. Secondly, even if there were guards posted near the baby around the clock, the intruder always managed to get past them. There were never any signs of forced entry, and the guards would be on the ground, dead. The private investigators that the desperate parents hired also wound up dead, sooner or later.

Not every child of a Dzuni was taken away. Obviously, regular babies like Rhezu and his little brother stayed. Only the ones who seemed to have Dzuni-like qualities at birth disappeared, and even not all of those were taken. For instance, Lhurone's son Hotsukhoru, and Hotohori and Khosure's daughter, Sheleru, still remained with their parents. Sheleru was born six years after her missing older brother, and her cerulean blue hair immediately betrayed her Dzuni status. When she was three, she transformed into a mermaid in the bathtub. Other than that, however, Sheleru didn't seem to possess any unique abilities, and it appeared to be the same for Hotsukhoru. Of course, Hotsukhoru's reticence didn't lend itself well to revealing his abilities.

Sharlen and Dhuzel looked at each other for a long time. "You certainly seem to know a lot, Halina," said Sharlen. "May I ask what you do for a living?"

"I'm a junior editor for a publishing company."

"That explains why you're so good at finding holes in the story," chuckled Sharlen. "In response to your question…" He drained the rest of the glass. "Dhuzie and I were just arguing about whether to tell you before you woke up."

"I still think we shouldn't," whispered Dhuzel urgently.

"I can hear you, you know," Halina said crossly.

"Well, Halina, I think you're better off not knowing," repeated Dhuzel more loudly, blushing slightly.

"And I think you should know," said Sharlen authoritatively. "Because I think our guardian will force you to stay with us."

"No!" Dhuzel looked beseechingly at Sharlen. "We should let her go back home before he discovers her here!"

"Dhuzel, you know perfectly well that Seki can tell when we're concealing a secret. Particularly you; you're bad at lying. Then we'd have a dead Halina on our hands."

"What!" exclaimed Halina. The tone of the conversation was taking a much too creepy turn. "Why would this Seki kill me?"

"Because you know who we are," responded Sharlen. "Dhuzel knows I'm right. Don't you, Dhuzie?" The lion only buried his head in his hand, signaling his surrender.

"Who's Seki?" asked Halina quietly, the fear from earlier beginning to return.

"He's the one who snatched us away from our parents," said Sharlen, leaning back into his chair. "Seki claims he did it because our parents were too ignorant to deal with our Dzunis properly. I hate to say it, but he does have a point, particularly in regard to us maneaters." His face darkened. "But in my mind, it doesn't mean that we had to be separated and hidden from our parents.

"Seki possesses great magical powers. He says that he serves a special function for the Dzuni by assassinating their enemies and keeping their relationships with their demons in a harmonious balance. He certainly hasn't helped the Dzuni maintain spiritual balance," spat Sharlen viciously. "And he's killed plenty of innocent people. Seki does it in the name of the Dzuni, or so he says. The only thing I agree with him about is how fitting the name of his position is—Sakurazukamori, the 'wielder of dark power.'"


	4. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: FB, PSOH, and TB don't belong to me, nor does anything else you recognize.

**Chapter 3**—_Lhasa, Sunday_

The sun had risen a good four hours ago—Rhezu did not waste the opportunity to catch up on sleep. Chief decided to give Tatara and him the day off today after the harrowing episode at the Binu Cliffs. Put together with his little brother's birthday party yesterday, Rhezu had had more time off than usual.

His steady snoring reverberated easily in the jammed one-room apartment. Well, two rooms technically, if one counted the closet that masqueraded as a bathroom. The ancient building's air conditioning suffered a fatal seizure two days ago, and Rhezu had been sleeping in just his briefs since then. His blanket lay scrunched up at the foot of his twin bed.

A shrill ringing shocked Rhezu into a full sitting position. Panting, he grabbed the phone receiver violently and demanded in a hostile voice, "What do you want?"

"Did I wake you, Rhezu?" asked his father, Ashu Khezuke, who was used to his son's irregular sleeping habits.

"Never mind," muttered Rhezu, sighing. "How're things, Dad?" He leaned back against the wall, which bore several pinups of busty women.

"Fine. I'd like to ask you a favor, Rhezanu." Rhezu winced, and managed to keep from groaning. It was never good when his father used his proper first name. Khezuke continued, "I thought that if you've got nothing planned today, that maybe you could spend some time with Kedi."

"I spent time with him yesterday."

"Yes, I know, but I…"

"Come on, Dad! I'm an adult! I can decide what to do for myself," protested Rhezu.

"Rhezanu." He recognized Khezuke's angry tone. "You were absent-minded yesterday and you hardly paid attention to Kedi. I know you miss your mother, but your brother is alive now and he's starting to think you hate him."

A pregnant silence followed. Rhezu stared resentfully at his rumpled bed sheets, his lips tight. He couldn't refute his father's argument. "Is it okay if I pick him up in two hours?"

Both boys bore a distinct resemblance to their father—straight hair the color of raw umber, and brown eyes set in an open, round face. Rhezu had inherited Khezuke's muscular stature, whereas little Kedi clearly took after his mother's dainty appearance. His softer bone structure made his eyes appear even wider. Right now those eyes were looking at Rhezu's profile from the back seat, where Kedi sat as Rhezu drove to Sodiran Park.

Kedi didn't know what to say to this older brother whom he didn't see very often. Rhezu spent a lot of time at his job. On one hand Kedi admired his brother for the job he did, and Rhezu was obviously a very strong man. But on the other hand, he never seemed to want to talk to Kedi much.

"So…how's school, Kedi?" Rhezu asked, trying to break the awkward tension.

"I like it," said Kedi quietly, looking at a blooming flame tree as it went by the window. There were several on this street, but Kedi couldn't remember which neighborhood this was. "Rhezu, what does 'XXX' mean?"

"Er…it's a special bookstore for adults." Damn, thought Rhezu, I should've remembered that there are still some skeevy stores here. Dze-I, the area they were driving through, was slowly reclaiming its bygone reputation as a trendy shopping area, but clearly it still had a ways to go. A few adult bookstores and strip bars still hung on, disguising themselves as nightclubs or novelty stores. However, the specialty shops, boutiques, and cafes were steadily engulfing them.

Rhezu was frantically thinking of another question to ask Kedi when he heard a sudden pop and felt the wheel swerve.

"What was that?" yelped Kedi, frightened as Rhezu regained control of the car and pulled it over to the curb. Kedi listened to Rhezu curse floridly.

"I blew a tire," said Rhezu. "Just when I don't have a spare on hand…Kedi, we'll have to go into one of these stores and call a tow truck. Sorry, kid."

"It's okay. I can look at the flame trees." Kedi jumped out of the car, and Rhezu joined him the next moment, looking furious.

"Excuse me," said a low voice from behind the two. "I notice that your car is disabled."

"It sure is," grumbled Rhezu, pivoting towards the voice. He saw a tanned man as tall as he, wearing a black ceremonial hekasho embroidered with golden flame tree blossoms. His long chestnut hair waved in the breeze.

"Please come into my shop." The man beckoned to his doorway. "You may use my phone."

"Thanks. Come on, Kedi." Rhezu glanced sideways at the man as he entered. Something about the storekeeper's knowing smile automatically put him on guard. A fragrant smell drew Rhezu's attention to the shop's contents. Every kind of drink had been set on display—teas, cocoa mixes, even fruit drinks from Gogotha. Tea sets were attractively arranged on shelves, along with brewing machines and various accessories. Kedi walked from display to display, admiring the painted china. Soft music played in the background—Rhezu couldn't recognize it at all. He also prayed that nobody from the station would see him in this store. He'd never be able to live it down.

The unmistakable sound of a lock clicking into place echoed ominously in Rhezu's ear. Kedi didn't notice, being too busy inhaling the scents of different Zi Aldan tea bags.

"What are you doing?" hissed Rhezu to the shopkeeper, calmly walking away from the door and towards him. The shopkeeper dropped the store key into a hidden pocked inside the hekasho's left sleeve.

"How fortuitous that you stopped by today," said the man, giving Rhezu a thin smile. "I was thinking of paying you a visit sometime very soon. Please relax, I shall do nothing to you or the little boy. Indeed, your younger brother seems to be enjoying my teas. I am pleased."

Rhezu noticed the harshness of the man's consonants for the first time, and wondered if he was a foreigner. "What do you want with me?"

"I shall tell you soon," replied the man. "But allow me to introduce myself. I am Lekhuma Seki."

"You don't sound Hothan."

"How observant, detective. You are right; I am Zi Aldan, not Hothan." Seki smiled indulgently, which irritated Rhezu.

"How did you know that I'm a detective?"

"I know everything about you, Ashu Rhezanu." Seki enunciated each word deliberately. A prickling sensation traversed Rhezu's body, and he instinctively looked to make sure Kedi was all right. The boy was still browsing through the drinks, ignoring the odd exchange between the two men. Rhezu took a deep breath and glanced outside. He saw the cars passing by, and friends gossiping and enjoying the warm spring air. The presence of the real world soothed him, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd entered a parallel universe.

"You do have good instincts, as Tatara said," murmured Seki approvingly. "Now, my dear Rhezu—that is what you are called, right?—please relax. I was not lying when I said I would not do anything to you or Kedi. Perhaps you could use some _yldeba_ root; that tea is very good for soothing unsettled tempers such as yours."

Rhezu glowered at Seki. "I'm not doing any sissy thing like drinking tea. And I don't have an unsettled temper. And did you say 'Tatara'? As in Shoma Tatara?"

The Zi Aldan nodded. "But please, come into the back room, where we can talk more privately. Your brother, too; he will not be bored, I assure you."

Looking into the queer man's unfathomable eyes, Rhezu knew that he couldn't do otherwise. He could not escape this person now. "Come on, Kedi."

They followed Seki through a rickety wooden door tucked behind a display hutch, Kedi excitedly, and Rhezu with deep forebodings. "Tatara is not here today," explained Seki. "He is at work. He lives here, Rhezu."

Rhezu looked at Seki's dark form in surprise. He could not envisage the stern, aloof Tatara living in a tea shop decorated in diaphanous drapes and giving off perfumed scents. Rhezu tripped over a loose floorboard in the dim hallway. "I must fix that," remarked Seki. "Just a little longer…ah, here we are. My apartments." He opened yet another wooden door, and the two guests saw a splendidly decorated, fully lit sitting room.

"How the hell is this possible?" gasped Rhezu. From outside, there was no way the building extended this far. He could see doors leading to more rooms in the midst of the elaborate Hothan tapestries, the plain yet comfortable Zi Aldan furniture, and the light Gogothan weaves that covered any remaining wallspace neglected by the tapestries. Seki only gave him that exasperating smile again.

"Sit," Seki said, gesturing to a sleek green sofa. "There is plenty of candy on the little table." Kedi unhesitatingly went over to the dish. A soft flapping sound occurred as Rhezu cautiously walked towards the sofa.

"Ah, I see Seilieze has sent one of her butterflies," exclaimed Seki. He held out his index finger, and presently a butterfly with pink and purple wings settled upon it.

"Who?" asked Rhezu, popping a mango-flavored hard candy into his mouth.

"Seilieze is one of the Dzuni, like Tatara," explained Seki. "I am sure that you will meet her eventually."

Since they first met, Rhezu had been trying to get Tatara to tell him more about the missing Dzuni, but the _borustange_ had kept his thin lips tightly closed. He'd come up with at least ten different theories why Tatara guarded his knowledge so vigilantly. Now Rhezu began to sense that even his stoic and courageous partner might fear Seki too much. Or was obligated to Seki, added Rhezu to himself.

"So, do you have the rest of the Dzuni here?" Rhezu mustered the most casual tone he could.

Seki laughed, a monotonous ripple. "Many of them, but not all. I was hoping that you could help me find one of them, detective. But I shall get to that presently." He kept looking at the butterfly.

"Did you steal them all from our parents?" demanded Rhezu angrily. It had long been an extremely emotional topic within the Shoma family—the unaccounted-for disappearance of eleven babies belonging to the older Dzuni. Rhezu was eight when his own younger sister vanished, and he still remembered his parents' grief and anxiety well. His partnership with Tatara raised the possibility of finding the missing kids again. "Is my sister here?"

"Do not be in such a rush, Rhezu. My, you could use _yldeba_ root after all. I'll wrap you a pack to take home. My compliments."

"Stop messing with me and answer the damn question!"

"Rhezu?" Kedi's voice sounded small and frightened. He'd caught his brother's frustration.

"You are distressing the child," chastised Seki softly.

With some effort, Rhezu calmed himself down. The butterfly flapped its wings twice, and then flew away, presumably back to Seilieze. The sound of its wings was the lone sound. Tall, elegant lamp stands along the walls emitted a soft, cream-colored light.

"You will learn everything in good time," said Seki, standing up. "I invited you to stay so that I could tell you my intentions. But it is not really appropriate for young Kedi to hear." Seki turned towards one of the mysterious doors and yelled, "Zian!"

The sound of running footsteps grew steadily louder, and the door flew open, upsetting a curio cabinet. Fortunately, it was empty.

"Zian!" Seki quickly scolded the teenage girl in Zi Aldan. Rhezu, however, was too occupied with her unusual features to pay any mind.

"Her hair's pink!" exclaimed Kedi.

"Nah, it's more like fuchsia," said the girl, swinging her braid for emphasis. She appeared to be no more than fifteen or sixteen.

Seki noticed Rhezu's hopeful look. "No, she is not your sister, Rhezu, but she is the same age. Rhezu, this is Shoma Zian. Zian, this is Ashu Rhezu, one of your relatives. He is the son of the boar Dzuni. And that is Kedi, his younger brother."

Zian seemed confused at the intrusion of strangers, but she recovered quickly. "Oh, well, it's so nice to see new people once in a while! Rhezu's the one who's driving Tatara crazy, right, Seki-seki?" Rhezu glared at her, and Zian giggled mischievously. "You need to work on your sense of humor, Rhezu," she laughed, skipping lightly over to the sofa. "Can't you tell when someone is teasing you? I'm sure you couldn't match my brother—he's an even worse tease than I am!"

"Compose yourself, Zian," said Seki. She obeyed immediately. "Would you please entertain young Kedi by yourself while I speak with Rhezu?"

"Sure! Kedi, you like magic tricks? I'll show you some in the back!" Kedi followed willingly, not bothering to check with Rhezu first.

As soon as the door slammed shut, the detective shot an accusing look at Seki.

"Did you brainwash Zian? She didn't question anything you said!"

"No, no." Seki descended into the lush armchair closest to Rhezu. "She is very clever, like her brother. She keeps her true thoughts to herself. You, however, are incapable of that. Each emotion dances across your face, for all to see."

"Can't you talk like a regular human?" Rhezu carelessly tossed more hard candy into his mouth. The dearth of contractions in Seki's speech grated on his nerves. Rhezu had never been able to tolerate pretentious-sounding people. "Or are you high on drugs?"

"No, this is the way I have always spoken." The mesmerizing eyes held Rhezu's gaze. "For 570 years, my speech has never changed." Seki lifted the candy dish into his lap, and the wrappers crinkled as he began to eat them. "But my darling Rhezu—"

"Don't call me that!"

"My darling Rhezu," persisted Seki, flashing his tantalizing smile again, "no one can live forever. I shall die sometime soon. A week, a month, two months—I am not sure how much time I have left. I must make sure that my Dzuni are taken care of. I intend to introduce them to the Shoma family."

Rhezu waited for Seki to say more. Instead, the Zi Aldan only unwrapped more candy. A pile of assorted-color plastic grew steadily on Seki's end of the coffee table.

"Sugar," explained Seki, "helps sustain my strength, of which I have great need."

Squirming, Rhezu said, "So, what about introducing the Dzuni to us? Why me?"

"You know the Dzuni, and you live in Lhasa. That is very convenient. Also, you know Tatara, and it seems likely that you two will become close."

"Eh, I wouldn't say that," hastily interjected Rhezu.

"You got him to admit that he was a Dzuni, yes? When you have worked with Tatara longer, you will appreciate how hard it is to overcome his stubbornness. Furthermore, you are a detective. You will be helpful in locating the final Dzuni. Tatara knows what I mean; ask him to explain. I have no time to tell you myself today.

"I have gotten off track. Listen very carefully, Rhezu. Giving my Dzuni over to the Shomas will be a very delicate process. I must not be interfered with."

"Meaning?"

"You cannot tell anyone about me or this place." The sight of Seki continually tossing candy into his mouth clashed with the gravity of his statements.

"Wha—but wouldn't it be faster if I could tell my father? The older Dzuni?" stammered Rhezu.

"No. I must be allowed to choose my own murderer."

"What the hell?"

"You are clearly not the one meant to kill me. That disappoints me."

"What are you talking about? 'Choose your murderer?'"

Seki placed the dish back onto the coffee table with a firm bang. "If your father or his fellow Dzuni were to learn about me, they would not be able to think rationally."

"With good reason."

"They would not hesitate to kill me, I am sure," continued Seki, unfazed by Rhezu's interruption. "Especially their demons. You do know about the demons?"

"The ghost wolf, the rabbit, monkey, and the cat thing? Yeah, sure."

"The ghost wolf is the only one in that group who can kill me, but Faran-Zhuku has forgotten how disastrous it would be for a Dzuni or Dzuni demon to kill me now. The family curse ruined things for too long." Seki's eyes blazed, impressing the urgency of his words upon Rhezu. Then Seki gasped, his face turning a sickly pale green.

"What! What's wrong?" Rhezu automatically leapt to Seki's aid, but the panting man held out a restraining arm. Eventually the color returned to Seki's face, and his breathing calmed.

"I want to make a deal with you," said Seki, settling back against the chair. "Either you or Kedi must come here every Sunday, so the Dzuni here can get to know you better. Their transition will be smoother if they already know a few Shomas." He closed his eyes, and took a steadying breath. His hands clung to the armrests. "You will also need to agree to keep from telling any of my Dzunis what I have just told you."

"Does Kedi have to keep this a secret, too? Because he'll blab to my father as soon as he can," said Rhezu.

"Detective, your brother is much more trustworthy than you think. I am certain you can conceive of a way to keep him quiet. If either of you talk to the Shomas, I will kill you. I have no qualms about attacking a child."

Rhezu turned his head sharply. Examining Seki, he saw an ill man whose flint-like eyes and hard face attested to his merciless nature. As someone who had chased and interrogated some of the worst criminals in Lhasa, Rhezu was no stranger to such natures. Heck, last year he'd apprehended the "Bone Basher," so nicknamed for his habit of systematically crushing animals and humans to death. The Basher possessed no regard whatsoever for life of any sort, and reveled in mind games with his interrogators. It had been one of the most chilling cases that the entire Lhasa police squad had seen in a long time. But sitting in Lekhuma Seki's living room, Rhezu thought that this strange man might've been able to reduce the Basher to a shivering mass of skin.


	5. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own FB, TB, or PSOH, or anything else you recognize.

**Chapter 4**—_Lhasa, the Next Day_

Tatara's office was as meticulously neat as Rhezu's was dedicated to messiness. The case files sat on top of the desk in three piles, and an open notebook revealed a clear, coherent handwriting. No photographs adorned the walls or the desk; there were simply the desk, two chairs, a cabinet, and the case files. Rhezu understood that Zi Aldans believed in austerity, but the room's starkness seemed extreme to him. After seeing the lushness of Seki's apartment yesterday, he'd been thinking that austerity existed only in theory.

The two reviewed old case files, one of the unpopular chores at the station. Every month on the first Monday, Chief assigned the job of sorting files for the active duty roster and the archives. It was the only way to weed out stalled cases that had gone nowhere. The job had fallen to Rhezu and Tatara this month.

Rhezu took advantage of the small office's privacy. "Tatara, you know that I met your guardian yesterday?"

The rustling of papers stopped, and Tatara kept looking down at his file. Then he sighed. "Yes, I do know." He slowly lifted his head.

"You know that he threatened to kill me and my five-year-old brother if we didn't obey him?" With effort, Rhezu managed to keep his voice down and resisted lashing out at Tatara.

The _borustange_ replied automatically, "Of course. Lekhuma must protect us." Tatara didn't meet Rhezu's disbelieving eyes.

"But he kills people, Tatara, I'm sure!" hissed Rhezu. "Innocent people! How can you defend him?"

"He saved my life, Rhezu!" snapped Tatara, slamming the desk with both hands. He glared fiercely at Rhezu, which silenced his protests immediately. Tatara eased slightly, and said more calmly, "I owe my loyalty to Lekhuma. It is the _borustange_ code."

Rhezu scrutinized Tatara for a long time. "Do you have any real feeling for Seki, or do you just feel obligated to him?" When his partner didn't respond, Rhezu persisted. "You call him Lekhuma, not Seki, and you don't seem so enthusiastic about him." A sudden thought occurred to him. "Have you covered up his murders since you joined the police, Tatara?"

"No," said Tatara emphatically. He added reluctantly, "Lekhuma does everything himself. He doesn't want to put me at unnecessary risk. I don't know the details of his work, though."

So he does know about Seki's killing, thought Rhezu. "Tatara, who is Seki, exactly? How can he be 570 years old if he's human?"

"I'm not talking about this anymore," declared Tatara. "I don't feel comfortable telling you anything Lekhuma hasn't given me permission to." Reaching for the top file of the closest pile, Tatara returned to work. "But I will say this. You should not disobey him." He looked at Rhezu. "Be careful."

"Well, no shit," snorted Rhezu. "It's a good thing my kid brother can keep a secret. He believed me when I told him it was a game." His facial expression soured. "A game."

Neither spoke for two hours.

_Hareth_

Halina had called her office and pleaded illness, to explain her absence. Luckily she had some manuscripts in her tote bag that she could read and edit while she was stuck in the maneaters' house.

As it happened, Sharlen and Dhuzel lived in a small house right behind her own apartment building. Because Hareth had grown little by little, it contained a maze of curving roads, most short and narrow—the sort of setup that caused outsiders to instantly become lost. Backyards didn't really exist. The vast majority of streets contained a mishmash of apartments, houses, businesses, and bars. There were few areas strictly devoted to one kind of zoning, unlike Lhasa.

The idea of maneaters having lived right behind Halina's home still unnerved her somewhat, but as she spent more time with Sharlen and Dhuzel, she relaxed. They clearly were not insane, and respected the fact that their diet made her uncomfortable. A tacit "don't ask, don't tell" agreement quickly sprung up the three adults.

Her vampire bite was recovering nicely. The only time when Dhuzel could speak with her easily was when he checked her bandages. Halina chuckled as she flipped through the manuscripts—Sharlen had been right when he said Dhuzel possessed little experience with women. A distinct flush appeared on his cheeks whenever he was near her.

Her admirer was currently out of the house, doing grocery shopping. "Dhuzel doesn't have a job," explained Sharlen. "He's very lazy, like a real lion." They both sat the purple room, Halina reclining on the sofa and Sharlen settled into a comfortably ratty armchair.

"Coward," teased Halina. "You're only saying that because he isn't here to hit you."

"I'm not scared," protested Sharlen. "I'm just sensible of how strong his punches are." Laughing, Sharlen went on, telling Halina that Dhuzel really had no job because there was no need for them to earn money. Seki provided them with all the money they required.

Halina frowned. "Are you a freelie just for fun, then?" "Freelie" was slang in her business for a freelance writer. In a strange twist of fate, she had discovered that Sharlen regularly submitted and published works, under several pseudonyms, through her publishing house. She had edited most of his published manuscripts, which included serious fiction, retellings of legends, children's books, and horror stories. Sharlen had been one of the few clients Halina did not meet with face-to-face, and she understood why now.

"No." Sharlen assumed a more serious air. "The writing is intended to give me and Dhuzel a financial cushion for the future, when we're no longer under Seki's control." Halina caught Sharlen's sudden grimace, and imagined how repellent depending on Seki's money must seem to him. "And I don't want to be dependent on the Shoma family, either."

"Considering how well your books sell overall, money shouldn't be a problem when the time comes," Halina commented, smiling.

"When you meet Seki, you'll keep this secret from him?" asked Sharlen urgently.

"Of course," replied Halina. The question increased her discomfort with Seki, and paradoxically, excited her fascination with Seki as well. An image of a hooded man, his face completely obscured by shadow, standing in the midst of a foggy forest glade kept springing into Halina's mind whenever Dhuzel and Sharlen discussed their dreaded Sakurazukamori. Then again, that was how the villain had looked in Halina's favorite childhood movie.

The phone rang, and Sharlen reluctantly heaved himself out of the chair. The only working phone was in the kitchen. Halina turned her attention back to her neglected manuscripts. A few minutes later, a bewildered Sharlen swept back into the room.

"That was Seki," muttered Sharlen, sitting down again. "He called to say that he couldn't come down to Hareth himself, and he wants us to take you to Lhasa in three days to meet him." He stared at nothing in particular, baffled.

"Is that bad?" inquired Halina nervously.

"Seki's never done anything like this before," said Sharlen. "In the past, whenever somebody caught us by accident, we'd either kill him, or if we didn't have room for the body, Seki would immediately come to take the person himself. Normally he doesn't insist on getting to know our victims first."

"Is he going to kill me?"

"He specifically said he would not. His exact words were, 'Perhaps the three of you could have tea with me.'" Sharlen shook his head. "I wonder if this means Seki is weaker than I thought."

_Lhasa_

Rhezu and Tatara continued to slog through the cold case files. The profiles and police reports were beginning to blur together in Rhezu's eyes, and he found himself needing to reread certain sections again and again. He was about to suggest a short break to Tatara when the office door suddenly opened.

"Hey guys," yelled an officer, "you got a summons from Chief."

"Oh, great, what now?" mumbled Rhezu. From his previous experiences, a 'summons' usually meant a scolding from Chief on some procedural matter he'd fouled up. Since Tatara was also involved, however, it must be something different. Rhezu couldn't imagine the proper _borustange_ fumbling protocol.

The Chief looked grave when they entered his office. "We've got a big one here, boys. Sit down." They obeyed. "Another rich kid has disappeared," continued Chief. "You remember the boy who went missing a month ago?"

"The Ghumani boy from Mhagenu?" asked Rhezu. The Ghumani family was second only to the Shomas for power in Hoth, and the two families were ancient archrivals. Rhezu had had to recuse himself from the case because the Ghumanis naturally accused the Shomas of plotting to kill the boy. An utterly ridiculous accusation, in Rhezu's opinion—the Shomas could not have possibly gained anything from a seventeen-year-old's presumed death, and no Shoma would have a love affair with a Ghumani, ruling out the possibility of a passion killing.

Nodding affirmatively, Chief continued, "This time it's the Laghiris. One of their twenty-year-old debutantes vanished after a late-night party at their mansion two nights ago." Chief's authoritative tone poorly concealed his scorn for socialites. "I want you boys to take this case, and go to the Laghiris. The officers should still be there, and you can swap notes and start talking to people. This will be all over the news by tonight, so don't give statements to anybody, you hear? Got that, Rhezu?"

Six hours later, Tatara was driving the car from the Laghiri estate back to headquarters, and Rhezu sat, exhausted, in the passenger seat. By the time they left the estate, the reporters were already questioning each Laghiri and policeman with the intensity of piranhas during a feeding frenzy. The night's darkness added to the sense of a feeding frenzy, because one couldn't see or tell from where the next reporter would attack.

The matriarch spent the entire time weeping at top volume and clattering her numerous bracelets, which only added to the intolerable noise inside the house. Laghiris stood in small groups alternately gossiping and crying ("Oh, I'm sure she ran off with that worthless boy, What's-His-Name…"), policemen questioned various servants and family members, and the matriarch's giddy, inbred lapdog barked constantly. Rhezu's exhaustion came not from the actual detective work, but from repressing violent urges to strangle the flea-ridden mutt and to scream at everybody to shut up.

It didn't seem like they'd have much luck with this case. No one questioned thus far witnessed the girl's disappearance, or saw unfamiliar, questionable characters at the house. The girl was obviously the super-spoiled sort whose parents had become utterly subservient to her wants. As a result, the parents knew nothing of her habits, friends, and life. Still, the investigation had only just started, thought Rhezu. His limited experience had already taught him that cases could be very strange and unpredictable.

"Before we get back," began Tatara, surprising Rhezu with his abruptness, "I want to tell you about the missing Dzuni that Lekhuma referred to. This Dzuni might just be the person responsible for the Ghumani and Laghiri kidnappings."

"How d'you figure?" Rhezu didn't much relish the thought of a serial killer in the family.

"I'm not certain yet, you understand—only suspicious. The missing Dzuni is a maneater."

"What the hell? A cannibal?" Rhezu stared, openmouthed and horrified, at Tatara.

His partner frowned deeply. "I suppose you've heard of the legendary maneaters of Tsaavo?" Rhezu nodded. "There are three maneating Dzuni who take after the Tsaavo ones. We have two, but one has been missing since a very early age. Lekhuma somehow lost him—I don't know the details."

"They eat humans? Kill humans?" pressed Rhezu.

"Look, Rhezu, it's their natural diet—" Tatara said impatiently.

"Killing humans is a crime!" yelled Rhezu, red with indignation. "They shouldn't be allowed to do that!"

"Rhezu!" hissed Tatara, grabbing Rhezu's shirt and pulling him in. The sudden action silenced Rhezu. "If they did not eat human flesh when they needed to, they would become insane and start killing for fun. They would kill a lot more people than they needed to. A normal murderer is just an average human being—they have no special powers. But can you imagine if we had to try to chase down the maneaters, with their animal senses, increased strength, and killing prowess?"

Rhezu kept scowling at Tatara, but said nothing. The _borustange_ released his grip, and Rhezu leaned away from him. "So, you're claiming we're better off having only a few cannibalism victims, as opposed to 100?"

Tatara sighed sadly. "I suppose it'll be too difficult for you to understand until you've actually met them." Although it wasn't clear, Rhezu sensed that he'd somehow offended Tatara deeply. He decided to ease off. "Well, what makes you think the missing maneater is our man?" asked Rhezu.

Splatters of rain started spotting the windshield, and the wipers' rhythmic swooshing calmed the atmosphere inside the car slightly. Tatara answered, "Well, the kidnappings are a month apart, and according to Lekhuma, this maneater needs to feed on humans once a month. Also, no sign of the Ghumani boy's body has appeared. The Dzuni maneaters understand how risky it is to go out and kill people to eat, so they don't waste their victims' bodies, and take great care with disposal. But, as I said earlier, it is far from certain that the maneater is responsible for both cases."

"I don't believe this," groaned Rhezu, leaning against the window. He knew he couldn't possibly be as matter-of-fact about maneating relatives as Tatara. "What do we do if it is the maneater?"

"We take him or her to Lekhuma, of course. Or we take Lekhuma to the person."


	6. Chapter 5

Happy Labor Day weekend!

Disclaimer: I don't own FB, TB, PSOH, or anything else you recognize.

**Chapter 5**—_Lhasa, Five Days Later_

As he awaited Halina's arrival, Shoma Haku admired the main estate's blooming gardens from the bay window. The flame trees, spaced intermittently throughout the grounds, served as the floral centerpieces. The other bushes and flowers were merely humble attendants to the trees. The scarlet blossoms contrasted sharply with the black, leafless branches—unusual characteristics that made the flame trees all the more commanding of onlookers' respect and awe. The blossoms would stubbornly cling to their branches until they froze and fell, at the beginning of winter.

Haku remembered the first time that the flame trees burst into color, after being seemingly dead for roughly 550 years. It occurred at this same time of year, a little earlier perhaps, but shortly after his firstborn, and Khosure and Hotohori's baby, disappeared. His mood sinking quickly, Haku tugged himself away from the memories.

Instead, he dwelled once again on the incredible ironies that shaped his present life. This parlor he now sat in was the very one that used to belong to the deceased family head, Shoma Asheno. Haku could remember entering through the heavy mahogany door as a teenager, and steeling himself for another mercurial confrontation with Asheno. After Asheno's death, Hatsuharu took over the practical needs of the estate, but Haku gradually slipped into the role of Dzuni spiritual leader. He had essentially replaced Asheno.

After twenty-seven years, Haku still couldn't quite track how he acquired that position. The other Dzuni demons deferred to his ghost wolf, Dzin-E, partly out of fear and seemingly out of tradition as well. Haku had also lived at the Shoma estate the longest, along with Hatsuharu, out of all the Dzuni, and the servants obeyed him readily. But he never asked to be the Dzuni God, and he couldn't banish the feeling that something was still off.

Years ago, Rhosu's and Dhizero's demons, the rabbit Laren and the feline _tsial_ Adour, attempted to explain to Haku how the Dzuni and their demons worked. That was when he discovered that there were actually twenty-six Dzuni. According to the demons, their own children would probably constitute the remaining thirteen Dzuni. Each Dzuni, as Laren told them, received his or her powers from his or her respective demon.

However, due to the old curse's interference, the bonds between Dzuni and demons had become seriously damaged, and, Laren feared, severed altogether in some cases. The only person capable of fixing the spiritual bonds was an enigmatic, sorceror-like figure called the Sakurazukamori. This person was somehow connected to Old Blood, the eerily humongous flame tree that bore flowers a darker red than any other tree's. Both Laren and Adour sensed that a Sakurazukamori existed somewhere, but they'd had no success tracking him down.

When Laren and Adour first told Haku these things, Haku asked, "Why do we need to be so concerned about finding this Sakal, Sakuro…ah…priest person? Why not just let the Dzunis fade away after the next generation and put an end to all this trouble?"

"We might have considered that," responded Laren promptly, "if not for the horrendous condition of the demon bonds."

"Laren and I were lucky to survive the curse," added Adour. "When it started, all kinds of evil began invading our world, and that affects Hoth, Gogotha, and Zi Alda for the worse."

"But we're more concerned about the effects it could have on you," interrupted Laren. "Until the spiritual equilibrium is restored, you, Hatsuharu, Rhosu, the other Dzuni, and your future Dzuni children will be at risk for insanity, illness, and even death. We haven't observed any signs yet, thank goodness. It's imperative to try to stop it, though." They wouldn't go into detail when Haku pressed, but they offered Dzin-E as an example of how the negative effects might manifest themselves. Haku needed little persuasion afterwards.

Haku didn't pass on the demons' dire predictions to his fellow Dzunis, although he did tell them about the possibility of having Dzuni children. Laren and Adour also gave him information about the kinds of Dzunis they would be, and they only dropped vague hints about the maneaters. The two demons weren't certain how well the Dzuni would respond to the idea of maneaters.

Dzin-E embarked on a quest to find Khosure's and Hotohori's child, insisting that the Sakurazukamori had taken it, and that she must get the baby back. Laren, Adour, and Kidzi, the monkey demon, also joined the search as more babies vanished. Occasionally they caught a scent, but the Sakurazukamori always managed to elude them. The demons searched tirelessly, and returned every so often to check on the older Dzunis.

Dzin-E spent the most time away from the Dzunis, endlessly prowling through Hoth, Gogotha, and Zi Alda. Occasionally one or two years might pass before Haku saw Dzin-E. The ghost wolf dominated Haku's thoughts as he continued to stare out the spacious window.

She had returned, briefly, only three nights ago. Eyes glowing bright red in the spring evening and speaking in a hoarse voice, Dzin-E said, "It won't be too long now. His power weakens." Then she faded out as quickly as she'd materialized, with no further explanation. A quiet consultation with Laren affirmed the phantom wolf's belief that the Sakurazukamori would soon be caught. Haku didn't dare tell the Dzuni this news, however, for fear of wrongly raising their hopes. The disappearance of the children had been unbearable enough. His own wife, the monkey Dzuni Ashitare, was nearly destroyed after losing the second one.

Haku sighed, and turning away from the window, walked to the tea table that had been set up in anticipation of Halina's arrival. He poured himself a cup, and began sipping it. After avoiding this wing of the mansion for two years, Haku had decided that the rooms were too beautiful and spacious to let go to waste. He didn't go so far as to actually live in them, but he used them as guest rooms and receiving rooms for visitors. The first thing he did was air them out, to remove the stagnation from years' worth of closed windows. Today, a panel in the bay window stood open, allowing the fresh spring breeze access into the room. The white draping fluttered, rustling assuringly.

A firm knock finally sounded on the door. "Come in," said Haku, leaping out of his chair. Halina poked her face into the room, and beamed when she saw her godfather. "Haku! It's been so long!" They embraced.

"Have some tea, Halina," exhorted Haku. "Is it true that you've transferred to Lhasa now?" He passed her a plate of sugar cookies freshly baked by Ashitare.

"Yes," lied Halina. Strictly, it wasn't true. She'd told her boss that a dear cousin had just died in Lhasa, and she needed to go to the funeral. Already a plan formed in her mind to make her boss agree to formally transfer her to Lhasa—she would claim that her bereaved family needed her help, and she'd have to stay in the capital for an indefinite time period as a result. Halina smoothed the pleats in her skirt under the table, to hide her nervousness.

"Is everything all right with your job?" Damn, Halina silently cursed. Haku sensed moods too easily. She decided to reveal her true purpose without further tiptoeing. Breathing deeply, she admitted, "Actually, the reason I'm in Lhasa has to do with the Dzuni. The uh, younger generation."

The shocked black eyes examined her guardedly. "The younger generation of the Dzuni? Our lost children?" whispered Haku. Nodding, Halina gulped and continued, "I come with an urgent message from the Sakurazukamori."

From the way her godfather jumped up and knocked his chair over backwards, Halina guessed she wouldn't have to explain who the Sakurazukamori was. Haku grasped her by the shoulders. "What did you just say?" he croaked. She repeated her statement, watching in morbid fascination as the expression in his eyes changed from shock to horror to fear and anxiety. She'd felt similar emotions during her arduous visit with Lekhuma Seki two days earlier. Already that meeting seemed only a dream—never had she imagined she would become so involved in supernatural matters.

When Halina thought Haku might be ready for more, she said, "The Sakurazukamori wanted me to tell you that it won't be long before the younger Dzunis rejoin you."

Haku immediately inquired, "How long?" The wistful tone tugged at Halina's heart.

"He wouldn't say." Haku's face shifted slightly, disappointed. "Although he did tell me definitely by the New Year."

"That's still nine months away," remarked Haku. "Still, that's closer than we've ever been up to now." He slowly resumed his seat at the table, and focused more sharply on Halina. "How did you know he was the Sakurazukamori, by the way?"

Seki's queerly mask-like visage danced in front of Halina's face momentarily, its lips moving in a soundless replay of their meeting. The Zi Aldan's erect body kept perfectly still as dark red flame tree blossoms swirled around the two of them, everything else totally black. Halina recollected being disoriented because it looked as though their feet had no ground to anchor themselves, yet her feet clearly pressed against a hard surface. The flying flowers reminded her of the unusually dark blossoms of Old Blood, the notoriously overgrown flame tree in the Shoma gardens. For generations, Shomas and the main estate servants had claimed Old Blood had sinister powers, and these claims no longer sounded ridiculous to Halina. An unmistakable aura of magic and deep secrecy had surrounded Halina that time with Seki.

She gave Haku a wan, apologetic smile. "You'll have to trust me. I'm sorry, but the Sakurazukamori was loathe to let me tell you many details."

"He's dangerous, isn't he?" Halina instinctively affirmed Haku's question. She said, "But he told me that he's dying, slowly. He wants you to order the demons to stop searching for him—Laren, Kidzi, Adour, and Dzin-E—because they're likely to kill him if they find him. Especially Dzin-E; he doesn't seem concerned about the other three, but he was absolutely adamant that you make Dzin-E stop looking."

"What happens if I don't order Dzin-E to stop?" Haku asked, crossing his arms. "You know I don't have perfect control over her, still. She may decide to defy me."

Halina felt like an enemy, consorting with Seki. Her godfather clearly harbored antipathy, as well as he might, towards the man who had abducted both of his children, along with the children of his closest friends and relatives. After spending several days with Sharlen and Dhuzel, and observing Sharlen's bitterness and anger at close range, Halina was inclined to agree with Haku's stance.

"Apparently," said Halina, "it is necessary for the Dzunis' and demons' well-being that the current Sakurazukamori makes a smooth transfer of power to a new one before he dies. If Dzin-E were to kill him before, it would botch the spiritual balance terribly."

"Yes, Laren and Adour once told me the demons were in trouble," concurred Haku doubtfully.

Pleading, Halina bunched her skirt fabric in her hands. "He said only the Sakurazukamori can repair the demons' bonds with the Dzuni, and that failing to do so would be disastrous—you might go insane, or die. He's too weak to finish the job properly, so the next Sakurazukamori will have to do it. Please, at least for your children's sake, call off Dzin-E!" She stopped, suddenly realizing how desperate she sounded, and that her hands were wet from perspiration.

"Please calm down," said Haku. "I'm not going to bite your head off." He couldn't repress a gentle smirk. Gratefully, Halina took several sips of now-cold tea to steady herself. When he detected only a faint scent of worry emanating from her, Haku asked quietly, "Does this man plan to make you the next Sakurazukamori? Is that why he's using you as his messenger?"

Halina burst into laughter. "Forgive me, Haku, but I'm as boring and earth-bound as a grass patch. I couldn't do magic even if I tried. No, he's using me because I'm conveniently related to the Shoma family, and because I happened to run into two of his hidden Dzunis."

"Are you absolutely sure?"

"Oh, yes. He said nothing to me about performing spells, or anything of the sort."

Haku strongly doubted whether the Sakurazukamori would've been straightforward with Halina on that matter, but he said nothing. "Does he intend for you to do anything else, besides delivering this message to me?"

"He wants me to spend time with the Dzuni, and prepare them for the outside world. I'm not sure how I'll accomplish that if he won't let them out of the house." Halina paused. "He also forbade me to discuss them with anybody else."

Just like Asheno, thought Haku. "Well, why did he take them away from us in the first place?"

"He told me that you wouldn't have been able to handle their powers properly. Even some of the Dzuni agree with him about that," she added quickly, recalling Sharlen's begrudging concurrence.

"But wouldn't Laren at least have been able to explain everything to us and the children?" protested Haku. "The demons are experts, after all."

"To be honest, I don't think it was the Sakurazukamori's original reason for abducting the Dzuni," confessed Halina. "His decision to let the Dzuni return to the Shoma estate seems too sudden to me. It's just a gut feeling, though. Nobody really knows anything about him, including the Dzuni who've lived with him for their entire lives." I think even the demons don't know everything about him, thought Halina.

"Does he treat the children well?"

"From what I've seen so far, yes, on the physical level anyway." Dhuzel and Sharlen were still the only "lost Dzuni" she'd met. "The ones I know fear his powers…" Halina drifted off hesitatingly, nervous about revealing too much. She was sure Seki had ways of monitoring her outside of his dwellings. Haku did not press her, however. "Er, I'll be staying with my mother for a few days, until I find an apartment," said Halina lamely. An awkward silence consumed the next ten minutes, as Haku and his guest sank into their turbulent thoughts.

Finally, Halina departed, strangely relieved that the session ended. When the parlor door closed behind her, she spent a moment collecting herself again in the grand entrance hall.

"Ma'am, can I get you anything?" inquired a passing maid. Halina realized that her face must seem quite pale. "No, thank you, I'm fine." The maid walked on, and Halina strode purposefully towards the front door.

"Oh, gods," she prayed, "I hope nothing horrible happens." She did not want to act as Seki's pawn, or worse, be forced to fight against her own family.

Haku remained in the parlor, and after his sharp ears detected the sound of the front door opening and clicking shut again, he made two phone calls.

An hour later, Halinake Hotsukhoru and Ahame Sheleru stood before their Dzuni leader in the parlor. They were the two younger Dzuni that Seki had left alone, for reasons unknown to the older Dzuni.

"How are you doing, uncle?" babbled Sheleru, her sea green dress rippling delicately to her swaying. Today her cerulean-colored hair was pulled back in a playful ponytail. "Daddy and Mommy told me to say hello to you for them. Daddy would've come along, but he has a lot of wedding dresses to finish. Spring is popular for weddings, you know."

"Yes, I know," chuckled Haku. Sheleru could never keep still. Khoru, on the other hand, stared at Haku sullenly. Unlike his obliviously gay cousin, Khoru was much better at sensing tension and shifting moods. Haku had never been able to like the moody boy as much as his father, Lhurone, the winged horse of the Dzuni, and a well-known flutist in Hoth.

"Well, I'm glad you're both doing fine," started Haku, cutting off Sheleru's cheerful monologue. "But I called you two here today. What I have to say concerns a serious Dzuni matter." Sheleru's green eyes widened, and Khoru's suspicious frown only deepened. "Have either of you ever heard of the Sakurazukamori?"

"Ohmigod!" exclaimed Sheleru, gasping. "How'd you hear about him?"

"Quiet, you little idiot!" hissed Khoru, glaring dangerously at Sheleru.

"So you do know the Sakurazukamori," said Haku.

"We're leaving right now," Khoru announced, leading Sheleru firmly by the shoulder back towards the door. "Pardon us, Haku."

Haku rose from his chair. "Wait!"

"No," insisted Khoru. "If we reveal anything, Seki will punish us. You'd be wise not to mention him to anybody else, Haku." Pushing Sheleru through the door, Khoru followed and abruptly shut the door, leaving a speechless Haku still standing.

The clock read eight minutes to six inside Seki's tea store. The proprietor stood behind the cash register, organizing the week's receipts. Currently, only the whistling kettle on a hot plate made any sound in the empty store. Seki reached to turn the plate off, and heard the door's chimes tinkling as someone entered. Without looking up, Seki said, "My, I was not expecting you tonight, Hotsukhoru."

"Seki, we need to talk now." Khoru leaned imploringly on the counter. Unhurried, Seki poured the boiling water into a pristine white china cup, and sprinkled Gogothan herb tea into it. A rich scent reminiscent of fresh lilacs filled the air.

"Very well," assented Seki. "Today there were only four customers anyway, so I shall close early." Taking out a thick, old-fashioned key, Seki calmly turned the lock, ignoring Khoru's antsiness. "Please, come in back with me."

They went through the dark channel, and emerged into the bright sitting room. Seki sank slowly into one of the heavily cushioned armchairs, as though preserving his energy for a prodigious undertaking such as mountain climbing. Khoru plopped into another chair next to Seki's, and began, "Seki, did you—"

"My little centaur," interrupted Seki in a chastising tone, "I wish that you would not come here unplanned. I do not like you lying to your parents and wandering the streets yourself. You do not possess your father's gang smarts."

"All right, Seki, I'm sorry," said Khoru impatiently. "But you know I've got my bow and arrows, and the darts." Seki inclined his head, letting the boy go. After all, he himself had taught Khoru how to use his Dzuni-given weapons, and the youngster could wield them with a deadly perfection now. He finished the last of the lilac tea, and felt strengthened. It had been a trying day. With a light tap, Seki set the fragile cup on the nearby coffee table.

"What is your problem?"

The words tumbled out in a rush. "Seki, Shoma Haku knows about the Sakurazukamori. He asked me and Sheleru over to the main house so he could question us about you. We left immediately, before Sheleru spilled everything. Should Sheleru erase his memory?" Khoru finished, panting slightly.

The older man said nothing, and began chuckling softly. "I see. It is very resourceful of Haku to think of asking you first." His lips curved upwards in the familiar enigmatic smile as he met Khoru's eyes. "You are confused; it is natural. I intend for Haku to know who I am. Now he knows me only as the Sakurazukamori, not as Lekhuma Seki. Remember that."

"B-but I thought you were going to keep them hidden forever?" By "them" Khoru meant the Dzuni living within Seki's apartments.

"My plans have changed," said Seki gently. "I want them to completely rejoin the outside world, which you and Sheleru have always been part of. I have enlisted the aid of other Shoma members to help them become acquainted with the family."

"Why change now?" Khoru's face held a puzzled look. He'd never expected to hear such a thing from a man he'd always known to be unbending.

However, Seki ignored the question, and continued. "Perhaps it is good that you came tonight. You ought to know, Hotsukhoru, that I have been planning this for much longer than you think. First, when I let Sharlen and Dhuzel live in the city, and then when I let Tatara join the police."

"And when you let Sheleru and me stay with our families?"

"No, that was different. I needed Sheleru to remain amongst outsiders, to erase the memories of anybody who should chance to discover me or my Dzunis. As you know quite well, the memory of the mermaid is unreliable, and I needed you to watch over her. You happened to be born around the same time as her."

Khoru didn't respond. He'd always known this practical fact, but he hadn't stopped hoping that a tiny part of Seki let Sheleru and him stay because of conscience pangs. Stupid, Khoru scolded himself, I know better than to think Seki has a heart or a normal way of thinking.

"Let us return to the pressing matters," said Seki, breaking Khoru's sour reverie. "You and Sheleru are still forbidden from discussing any of the other Shomas, including the older Dzunis, with the Dzunis here, although you may still visit. I hope that you will understand why I wish this, later. Are you familiar with Sigeshomi Halina, and Ashu Rhezanu and his younger brother?"

"Kind of."

"They are the outsiders that I have allowed inside here. They will get to know the Dzuni, and ready them for their new life. I wish for you and Sheleru to help Halina, Rhezanu, and Kedi any way you can. Of course, you should not let any outsider find out that you are doing that."

"Right…" Khoru tried to tuck the instructions safely into his memory. "Should we find them, or let them come to us?"

Seki shook his head. "Oh, I believe there is no need to hurry. They will cross your paths soon enough."

"Uh, what kind of 'help' do you mean?" Sheleru's airheadedness seriously annoyed several of the Dzunis, and Khoru knew very well from personal experience that some were pretty dangerous.

"Introducing Halina, Rhezanu, and Kedi to the Dzuni, of course. But do not push them—follow their lead." Seki's eyes glinted, seemingly reading Khoru's concerns. "That will be safer for our new acquaintances, and easier for the Dzuni." His light green hekasho rustled as he stood up, and Khoru understood that the audience was over. "There is nothing else to cover. Remember, not a word of this to anyone I did not give you permission to talk to."

"I'll make sure Sheleru doesn't blow the cover."

"Good boy. Now please leave before the streets become too empty—I will not be able to accompany you this time, and I do not want any ill fortune to befall you." The Zi Aldan's skin appeared unusually pale to Khoru, too pale to be attributed to the room's lighting. For the first time, Khoru realized that Seki might not be immortal, as he'd always seemed. The centaur kept this revelation from showing in his expression, and bade Seki goodnight.


	7. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I don't own FB, PSOH,. TB, or anything else you recognize.

**Chapter 6**—_Lhasa_

Sunday had arrived—one week after Rhezu and Kedi first encountered Seki. Because the Laghiri kidnapping utterly consumed his attention, Rhezu didn't remember the pledge he made to Seki until the wee hours of Sunday morning. It required some work to convince Khezuke that he could take the time to go out with Kedi, but Rhezu eventually succeeded.

"Don't stay out too long, all right?" asked Khezuke when he saw his eldest son's bloodshot eyes and bad-tempered scowl. Rhezu only grunted in reply, and Kedi pulled his hand back from his brother's nervously. The sight of the thin, violet-haired man in the car, whom he'd never seen before, exacerbated Kedi's unease.

"Kedi, this is my partner Tatara. Tatara, my kid brother." After making sure Kedi had been securely fastened into the backseat, Rhezu banged his head as he flopped into the passenger seat. A steady stream of hard-core cursing temporarily dispelled Kedi's unease as he listened, fascinated. Tatara slapped the back of Rhezu's head to silence him. "Idiot! Do you want your brother to hear that filth?" Rubbing his stinging aches, Rhezu muttered something unfriendly and remained silent for the rest of the trip.

"Kedi, I'm really busy on a case right now," Rhezu said as the car approached the teashop in Dze-I. "I'm sorry, I'll make it up later. You remember when I told you we'd visit Seki once a week?"

"That's where we're going now?" For the first time, Kedi brightened a little. He hoped that Zian, the fuchsia-haired girl, would show him more magic tricks. Hers were the best he'd ever seen. She could turn herself into any animal!

"Yeah, we'll drop you off with Seki, and come back in two hours or so. That ok?"

Kedi nodded enthusiastically. The teashop's lavish façade came into view. Seki, who had been rearranging the window display, looked up and saw the police car double-parking. Smiling, he left the display and went to the door to greet them.

"I am glad you remembered, Rhezanu," said Seki. "And you brought young Kedi, excellent. Would you like some tea and cookies?" Kedi immediately rushed into the shop, and headed straight for the inviting platter of sweets on the counter.

"I can't stay," Rhezu informed Seki gruffly. "I gotta work on that damn case."

"The Laghiri case? Oh, yes, I believe it has gained a lot of attention," remarked Seki beatifically.

Casting a suspicious eye upon Seki, Rhezu asked, "You wouldn't have anything to do with it, would you?" In the background, Tatara groaned exasperatedly.

"No. I have no reason to target the Laghiris." The smug look on Seki's face made Rhezu grind his teeth. "They are merely silly socialites, and no threat to the Dzuni."

"And the Ghumani boy? That wasn't yours, either?"

"No. Someone else beat me to him," whispered Seki, too softly for any bystanders to hear. "Quite fortunate, actually—it eliminates inconvenient and tiresome work for me." Waving his hand in farewell, Seki retreated into his shop, ending the interrogation. "Gods," muttered Rhezu, raising his eyes to the sky as he trudged back to the waiting car.

Kedi, immersed in the tastiness of the assorted chocolate cookies, paid no heed to the silent form of the storekeeper, observing him. When Seki spoke, he guiltily shoved a cookie into his mouth, and turned around with his cheeks full.

"Were the cookies good, my dear Kedi?" Seki chuckled. "There is no need to feel guilty. You may have as many as you wish." He folded a periwinkle cloth that had previously been sitting in the display window.

"Is Zian here today?" Kedi asked hopefully.

Gathering more cloths, Seki replied, "Of course she is. But I am sure that you will meet some of her friends, as well. They are curious about you. It is too early for me to close my shop, so please feel free to explore my apartments." Seki pulled aside the drape covering the entrance, and gestured for Kedi to go inside. The little boy followed Seki through the dark hallway, staying far away from the unidentifiable shadows.

When they entered the luminous sitting room, Seki stopped and scanned the space. As far as Kedi could see, there was nothing besides the furniture and wall hangings. Finally Seki pointed towards a tapestry depicting a long-dead Hothan warrior brandishing his sword. "My dear boy, if you go through the door behind that, you will find some new friends."

"Can't I stay with you?" The prospect of unknown territory beyond the tapestry didn't seem inviting to Kedi.

"You will not have to go through a dark hallway. I assure you, she is very nice. I told her to expect you today." Seki nudged Kedi forward with his elbow. "Go on." Reluctantly, Kedi left Seki's side, and crossed the cavernous room. The tapestry was much heavier than it looked, and Kedi grunted loudly as he lifted it. Scrabbling with his hand, he finally found the knob. The door opened with a protesting whine, and Kedi slipped out of sight. Satisfied, Seki returned to his shop.

The night before passed at an excruciatingly slow pace, second by second, for Haku. Once his instincts convinced him to heed Halina's dire message and Khoru's alarmed reaction, Haku spent the next twelve hours trying to call the ghost wolf back. The fear that Dzin-E would kill the Sakurazukamori and cause irreversible damage grew for each minute of the ghost's unresponsiveness. Haku did not stop even when Ashitare knocked worriedly on his door as the clock struck two in the morning.

Finally, after the sun rose above the eastern horizon, a bass voice snapped, **"What you want?"** The giant wolf materialized in front of the bay window, as though it were about to leave again. The glowing red-orange eyes, highly visible even in the full daylight, narrowed in annoyance.

Haku wasted no time, being fully aware of the wolf's fickleness. "I've had a message from the Sakurazukamori." The red eyes opened fully as the wolf jerked its head up. Dzin-E waited for his Dzuni to reveal more. "He says that he's dying, and that the lost Dzuni will soon be restored to us." Haku dropped his voice, adopting the gravest tone possible. "Dzin-E, he wants to remind you that he must be left alone while making his final arrangements. Stop searching for him, and don't kill him. Let him die on his own."

**"No, I can't do that," **rumbled the wolf viciously, baring her teeth as she spoke. **"He betray us long ago. It's my duty kill Sakurazuka Sezuko. He live too long already."**

"Dzin-E, he's going to die soon anyway, and I don't want to watch the Dzuni get destroyed because you messed up the spiritual balance."

**"It still damaged whether he die naturally or by me,"** snapped Dzin-E. **"I say kill him now."**

"No, Dzin-E!" Haku stared at the wolf imploringly. "Please. We've had enough pain and trouble." He staggered from the chair, exhausted from his all-night exertion, without breaking eye contact with Dzin-E. Taking a few determined steps towards the phantom, Haku said, "You saw how terrible it was when our children vanished. You saw our agony and depression. Please, let us reunite with our children, and not have to worry about spiritual fallout that might make the Dzuni go insane or kill themselves. We've walked an almost invisible line between mad and sane for fifty years already. I'm begging you. Yes, I know—you hate begging. But damn it, if there was ever a time when I needed you to obey me, it's now."

Haku's vision shimmied, and he leaned onto the table for support. "I said nothing when you decided by yourself to go looking for the kids and the Sakurazukamori, and I was glad you did. But if continuing to hunt this Sezuko is going to result in horrific repercussions, I want you to stop." By now Haku stood only a foot away from the apparition. They glared fiercely at each other, unwilling to be the first one to break. Summoning all his remaining energy, Haku knelt down until he was almost nose-to-nose with Dzin-E. "I don't care if you get angry and attack me, if it'll make you end your search. I'm right here, for your convenience."

Growling, Dzin-E disappeared with an explosive pop. Just as Haku was about to yell furiously into the empty air, her disembodied voice announced curtly, **"Fine, I leave Sezuko alone."**

Kedi's first impulse upon entering the room behind the warrior tapestry was to scream hysterically. A teeming, black bulk with six straw-colored eyes watched him intently.

"It's all right, kid," said a reassuring voice, making Kedi suddenly gulp down his scream. "They're just my shadows. Easy, fellows, this little boy isn't an enemy. I don't need any protection." To his left, a teenage girl, seated nonchalantly on an oversized bright pink beanbag, screwed the lid tightly back on her bottle of red nail polish. Her complexion and eyes matched those of her companions exactly. Kedi could barely tell when her hair started—there was so little difference in color between her skin and hair. His father had told him staring was rude, but Kedi couldn't keep from gaping; he'd never seen anybody who looked like this.

The whites of her teeth and eyes shone brightly as she smiled. "You must be Kedi. My name is Sangaira."

"What?"

"Sangaira. It's a Gogothan name. The other Dzunis call me Sira, though." Noticing Kedi's nervous glances towards the black forms, Sira ordered, "Zeisna, Yii, Derga, go play in the back for a while, ok?" The forms lazily shifted themselves off the beat-up sofa, which bore obvious signs of being used as an impromptu scratching post. While observing them stretching their lithe muscles and trotting away, Kedi realized that they were large cats. His curiosity finally overcame his fear, and he asked, "What are they?"

"Black jaguars. They only live in the jungles of East Gogotha." Sira's silky ponytail swished as she reached next to the sofa for another beanbag, a red one. She hauled it to the other side of her pink beanbag. "Come on, sit here. My boys have taken over that ratty sofa."

"They're all boys?" Kedi snuck a last glance to assure himself of the distance between him and the felines. He sunk into the beanbag's comfortable mushiness.

"Yep. You thirsty? Sometimes people find it too hot in here." Now Kedi felt the warmth for the first time. It was hot enough to make a person sweat lightly if they walked long enough, but not enough to cause immediate discomfort. Generally, only in late summer would they ever get temperatures this high in Lhasa. Kedi began to envy Sira's light blue sarong and white cotton shirt; those clothes suited this heat better than his jeans and long-sleeved shirt. "Here you go, Kedi." Sira handed him a big, sturdy glass full of water. "Sorry about the temperature, but I don't take the cold very well."

"Because you're a black jaguar?"

Sira nodded. "That's right, I'm the Dzuni jaguar." Kedi took a long draught of the refreshing, lemony water, and examined the small room more closely. The walls were painted an airy cream color. Cheap beaded curtains, in colors varying from pink to blue to purple, hung from strategically placed pins from the ceiling along the walls. Flowers, suns, and various jungle animals all dangled from these curtain strands. A large ceiling panel permitted natural sunlight into the room. At the opposite end from the big cats, two hammocks swayed gently. There was no other furniture, in order to allow more space for Zeisna, Yii, and Derga to relax with their master. A rich scent filled the air—the tropical aroma of rainforest fruits, which Seki created specially for Sira. The enticing aromas calmed Kedi's jitteriness.

"Do you have any magical powers like the other Dzuni?" Kedi asked. "My dad's the boar, you know. He's really strong!"

"Well, not really," replied Sira, laughing self-deprecatingly. "I only have cat-like senses, such as good night vision and sharp hearing. A lot of Dzunis have similar things, though."

"Can your…" Kedi stopped, struggling for the right word.

"My shadows? They're not proper demons like the Dzuni rabbit or the ghost wolf. They're like junior demons that only do what I tell them. Here's something cool—they can change size. Derga, come here please." At the sound of its name, one of the dozing felines immediately perked up, and loped over to Sira. Scratching Derga behind the ears, Sira explained, "He's the youngest of the three cats."

"Like me," added Kedi. "I'm the youngest of three children, though my older sister's been gone for a long time." He turned his hopeful brown eyes on her.

Sira became somber, knowing what was on his mind. "Sorry, Kedi. I'm too old to be your sister by a couple of years. I'm eighteen." An awkward silence ensued for a few moments. Moving quickly to appease his disappointment, Sira returned to Derga. "Now, watch as Derga transforms." The adult cat morphed smoothly into a chubby little cub, and much less intimidating. Kedi cooed, "Ooh, can I play with him?"

"Derga loves to play. There are plenty of toys in the basket on the other side of the sofa." Kedi and the cub immersed themselves in a fetch game with a rubber ball. "He seems like a normal kid," thought Sira as she sipped papaya juice. "Wonder why the heck Seki brought him here." Like her fellow Dzuni, Sira constantly pondered the strange turn in their guardian's actions. As recently as two years ago, Seki wouldn't even consider letting them outside their apartments. Sira didn't suffer from the same wanderlust as some of the others; after all, Hoth's cold climate offended her intrinsic need for the tropics' heat too much.

The room's occupants all turned their heads as a relaxed tapping sounded on the door behind the hammocks. Sira's nose immediately caught the elusive scent of her close friend Lafidzi, another Dzuni who was a year older. This scent always evoked an image of dusk in Sira's mind—when the cool nighttime winds began to cleanse the atmosphere of the pungent aromas from the day's sweat and chaos.

The wobbly doorknob rattled, and a petite girl with sharp angles everywhere in her body entered the room. Seki frequently referred to Lafidzi as the "Lady in Black"—a twist on a forgotten ghost story about a woman, dressed entirely in white, who haunted the halls of Lhasa's ancient castle. Instead of a snow-white robe, Lafidzi wore only black clothes that highlighted her frame's skinniness and made her light skin appear even more spectral. Her doe eyes and straight, flowing hair were also perfectly black. Occasionally a purplish gleam would teasingly reveal itself in her hair before vanishing again. A black outline of two concentric circles on her forehead completed Lafidzi's otherworldly appearance. The young Dzuni affectionately called this mark "the third eye."

Sira thought nothing of her friend's looks, since she had grown up with Lafidzi. "Hi Lafi, I wondered when you'd drop by," she said, giving Lafidzi a warm smile. "Let me introduce you to Kedi. He's Seki's guest. Kedi…" Sira dropped off, noticing Kedi's open-mouthed stare. Apparently, a sudden onset of paralysis afflicted Kedi—she couldn't detect any movement anywhere. "Hey, are you okay?"

"Mama?" The word came out in a disbelieving squeak. The reason for Kedi's unexplained reaction dawned upon Sira. She'd forgotten that ordinary humans couldn't see Lafidzi's true form; instead, they would see the person they most desired in their hearts. It could be a dead, missing, or living person—it didn't matter.

The frail-looking frame was the only physical characteristic that Lafidzi and Kedi's mother shared. The Lafidzi that Kedi beheld possessed rosy cheeks, voluminous chocolate-colored hair, and shining pale blue eyes.

"No, Kedi. I'm not your mother. I'm a Dzuni named Lafidzi."

Late that night, Khezuke gave his eldest son a livid earful for not calling and keeping Kedi out until all hours. Rhezu, exhausted by the day's investigations, mumbled an apology and let his father's yelling bounce off him. His numb mind didn't truly register anything that Khezuke said.

Finally, he reached his dilapidated apartment. Locking the door, he tossed his jacket onto a chair, and collapsed thankfully onto his cot without getting out of his clothes.

Sadly for Rhezu, his dreams proved as draining as the day had been. He dreamt that he was at the Shoma main estate for the New Year's party, which he attended every year. The furniture gleamed from the servants' cleaning marathon, but strangely, none of the decorative streamers, ornaments, or drapery were present. None of the lights were on, either. Outside the window, a thick layer of snow had swallowed the landscape. Rhezu was the only person in the entrance hallway, and he couldn't hear any movement or faint chattering.

A soft padding attracted Rhezu's attention. Turning, he saw the Laghiris' fluffy whitish-gray lapdog panting at the foot of the staircase to the mansion's upper level. "You!" he yelled at the dog, who appeared to be laughing at Rhezu.

"Inconvenient and tiresome," barked the dog in Seki's unshakably smug voice.

"You fucking mutt! I'm going to wring your neck!" Rhezu plunged for the dog, but it took flight up the stairs, yapping "My darling Rhezu" as it ran. Regaining his balance, Rhezu unhesitatingly pursued the dog. The chase seemed endless—Rhezu didn't recall the staircase being so long, or so steep. The dog kept a good fifty feet away from his pursuer. With a final "You should try some _yldeba_ root tea," the dog vanished at the top of the stairs.

Trying to draw air into his burning chest, Rhezu reached the top at last, and emerged into a sunny, outdoor vista. The temperature was warm, the skies blue, and the land before Rhezu lay flat and grassy, with smaller-than average flame trees in full bloom. Still huffing, Rhezu automatically re-tightened his hekasho's sash, which had come undone during the wild chase.

Something black fluttered into view from behind the tree nearest to Rhezu. "Who's there?" He instinctively reached for his gun, and then realized it wasn't there.

Of course he wouldn't wear it with his New Year's hekasho. "Wait," thought Rhezu, "why bother rationalizing it? It's a dream, right?"

A woman stepped out from behind the flame tree, smiling warmly at Rhezu. "It's good to see you again, dear. It's been about five years, hasn't it?"

"M-mom?" stammered Rhezu. "But you're dead!"

"Dead is as dead does," said the woman, shrugging and pulling her black shawl tighter around her shoulders. The black dress underneath billowed slightly in the breeze. "Your hekasho collar is uneven."

Rhezu shifted the garment, while looking carefully at this person. The face and voice seemed the same, but wearing all black and paying such close attention to clothing was very unlike his mother. She was the one he'd inherited his messy habits from. "Well…it is a dream," he thought, feeling his throat constrict with emotion. He didn't want to leave just yet.

"Mom…"

"Yes, Rhezu?"

"I'm sorry." Rhezu breathed deeply, forcing a sob back down. The flame tree blossoms rustled in the breeze. The black-clad woman gazed at Rhezu steadily, encouragingly. "Sorry for what?" she prompted.

"For being mad when you and Dad told me you were going to have another baby," said Rhezu, concentrating on keeping his voice calm. "I'd gotten used to being the only one, and I was a stupid eighteen-year-old."

"It was hard for us, too," whispered the woman. "At first your father didn't want me to take the risk."

"He didn't?" Rhezu had never known that.

"No, but I insisted. I thought it would be my only chance to have another baby that wouldn't disappear."

"Right," nodded Rhezu. "Yeah, I can see that. It's just…" The wind strengthened. "Um, at the end, you went so fast I didn't have a chance to tell you that I loved you." The woman smiled again, and pulled the shawl up around her head. "Thanks for everything you did for me, Mom." The trees disappeared, and the wind howled. The shawl's loose ends flew, as if growing wings. Waving good-bye to Rhezu, the woman jumped onto the wind, and flew away.

"Wait! Don't leave yet!" begged Rhezu. As he began to run after her, he stumbled and his face slammed into the grass. Gasping, he pushed off the ground, only to see an off-white wall with damaged paint. He'd woken up back in his apartment. The newly risen sun's rays filtered feebly through the broken blinds. His pillow felt wet, and Rhezu realized he'd cried. This time he didn't resist the new tears welling, and had a good cry for an hour.


	8. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I don't own FB, PSOH, TB, or anything else you recognize.

**Chapter 7**—_The Next Morning_

"Are you even listening to me?" Only a slow blinking met Tatara's concerned query. The squad car snaked its way through the crowded downtown streets. The duo was on its way to a popular nightclub in Dze-I, the one place in common that the Ghumani and Laghiri victims frequented.

As Rhezu's confused mind processed the words, his eyes refocused, and a gaudily painted sale sign for a women's boutique formed a definite shape within his vision range. The shrill "Three Bras for $20!" in bright scarlet letters speeded Rhezu's return to the real world. He turned dumbly to Tatara. "What'd you say?"

The _borustang_ watched his partner from the corner of his eye. He knew Rhezu had been badly sleep-deprived lately—after all, he didn't possess Tatara's ability to function fully on thirty minutes' worth of sleep. But last night wasn't an unusually late night for an active case, and Rhezu had had dead-end cases like this one before. The nightclub in Dze-I was their last chance, really, to find any significant clues. No, decided Tatara, something else happened.

"Rhezu." He repeated the name again, to force Rhezu to look him in the face. "Did something happen to Kedi at Seki's last night?" Tatara didn't think his guardian threatened Kedi, but he wished rather than knew Seki to be incapable of such monstrosities.

"Hmm? No, I guess not," murmured Rhezu, scratching his nose absentmindedly.

"Yes or no?" pressed Tatara, accelerating the car through a green light. They were just entering the Dze-I area now.

"He met a Dzuni, I think," Rhezu finally said, after a moment's silence. "A girl dressed all in black. She came out with him when I got there to pick Kedi up. She looked so creepy, especially with that tattoo on her forehead." Hearing a snort, Rhezu paused. "What's so damn funny?"

"Nothing," said Tatara, keeping his face impassive. "Go on."

"I talked to her, said hi, you know. Then she starts blabbering nonsense. Does she take hallucinatory drugs?" Seeing Tatara shake his head, Rhezu continued. "But Kedi seemed to understand everything she said."

"That was Lafidzi." Tatara chuckled suddenly, which caught Rhezu by surprise. The willowy man rarely displayed jocularity. "I think I understand better what happened to you now."

"What? What the hell are you talking about?"

Glaring at a station wagon that cut him off, Tatara said, "Lafidzi is what Zi Aldans call 'the soul's eye.' It's a black bird, a little smaller than the seahawks you have around the cliffs here. The rich sometimes kept these birds as pets—they were considered exotic because they had three eyes. The soul's eyes can talk, too. However, they can't learn grammar, so their utterances sound like gibberish. But there are some people, mostly from the older generations, who claim the birds can sense the deepest desires of people's hearts."

"Oh," said Rhezu, enlightenment dawning upon him.

"That's what Lafidzi can do, figure out the person somebody most wants to see. But she's not always right."

"How do you mean?" Rhezu observed Tatara's lips curving into their obstinate scowl, and he let the question die in the air peacefully. Sinking into a thoughtful mood again, Rhezu watched the stores of Dze-I whip by. So, Lafidzi had posed as his mother. That would explain why his 'mother's' behavior had seemed off in the dream. The emotions he'd felt were absolutely genuine, on the other hand. A deep gratefulness to Lafidzi took root within him. She'd allowed him to say goodbye, even if only in a dream. Rhezu wondered if Kedi experienced the same sort of healing. It would explain why his baby brother had been utterly speechless when Rhezu picked him up. "Hey, wait, if Lafidzi is shut up in Seki's place like the others, how'd she get into one of my dreams?"

"Well…" The scowl softened into a dispassionate look. "Seki becomes distracted easily. Some of us don't sit still for long." Before Rhezu could decipher Tatara's oblique answer, they arrived at the Night Air Club, a red brick building decorated with steel-like door and window frames molded according to what Rhezu once heard Shoma Haku scornfully dismiss as "modern art with mumps." Indeed, as he got out of the car, Rhezu saw a distracted shopper bump against one of the swollen panes and curse at it viciously.

"Hmph," grunted Tatara. "Now I remember this place. The narc unit has been watching it for months. Getting intelligible information out of anybody here will be downright miraculous."

"High all the time, are they?" asked Rhezu, raising his eyebrow. Reluctantly, the partners proceeded towards the front entrance. Only after they rang the doorbell for the fifth time did someone finally answer the door. The owner, a disheveled man whose red eyes and prematurely old look betrayed his heavy usage of drugs, tried to dodge them at first, thinking they were searching for drugs. Tatara had to reassure him that drugs had nothing to do with their visit.

Half an hour later, they came back out, having been unable to glean anything from the spaced-out man. "Maybe we should have nailed him for drugs after all," remarked Tatara. "Did you hear some of the things he said?"

Rhezu scoffed. " 'My dog flew to the top of Esisu Mountain and plucked rocks from the sky for me?'" The word "rocks" was often used as slang for one of the popular, hard street drugs. "Damn, he couldn't come up with a better hallucination even while he was high? It's no better than the lame excuses schoolkids give their teachers."

"Well, that was hardly my point." Tatara sighed. "We can write Night Air off as a potential lead, anyway. Clearly we can't pick up anything useful from here." The prospect of a dead end case loomed large before them. Leaning against the car, Rhezu asked, "What do you want to do now, Tatara?"

"I think—" Tatara stopped, emitting a strangled sound. Rhezu followed the _borustang_'s stare and looked across the street. There, standing in front of a fine café, stood Seki, waving at the pair. A woman, clad in a gray business suit, waited by his side. Her eyes kept returning to Rhezu, as though he were a long-forgotten classmate whose name she couldn't recall.

"Please, come and join us, Rhezanu and Tatara," called Seki. "I was going to treat Halina here to a lovely lunch."

"She's a Shoma, isn't she?" thought Rhezu. He'd seen her at the New Year's parties before. The name sounded familiar.

"No, we're working on a case," answered Tatara abruptly. "We need to get back to the station." He nudged Rhezu assertively, and reached into his jacket pocket for the car keys. Rhezu hesitated, intensely curious about why Halina was with Seki. The sorcerer looked in high spirits today—at least, his ever-enigmatic smile rarely departed from his face. His face appeared to have regained some color since Rhezu dropped Kedi off.

"My dear boy," Seki said to Tatara, "your case has just reached its limits, has it not?"

Bristling, Rhezu shouted, "Hey!" His partner's shoulders merely sagged, as if already defeated.

"Please, you should at least eat well once today," exhorted Seki, energetically gesturing for the two to join him and Halina. They reluctantly obeyed; besides, Seki's yelling was beginning to attract attention from bystanders.

"Tatara, d'you know why Seki's so perky today?" hissed Rhezu as they crossed the street. He got no reply, though, and watched in a befuddled state as Tatara's behavior became odder and odder. Once they reached Seki and Halina, he stood behind Seki, as though guarding him, and remained quiet for the rest of the lunch. Rhezu could hardly recognize the person who always took the lead and nagged him to clean up his messes. This reticent, subservient Tatara disquieted Rhezu.

The presence of Halina bothered Rhezu just as much, however. When Seki introduced her to him, he finally remembered that she was the daughter of Haku's aunt.

"I thought you lived in Hareth?" he asked her casually.

"My company transferred me here," she said. Rhezu immediately caught the overly modulated tone of her voice, which meant she was lying.

"Now, Halina," chided Seki in mock disapproval, "tell this lovely young man—" Rhezu grimaced at this—"the truth. He knows me, after all."

Halina swallowed, and Rhezu observed her severe discomfort. "I came here because I met some of the lost Dzuni, and Seki ordered me brought here. But my company did transfer me here," she added, rather lamely. Rhezu bowed his head briefly, then Seki led the group inside. It was a fashionable Gogothan restaurant, quite well known in Lhasa.

"Welcome, Mr. Lekhuma! We've not enjoyed the privilege of your presence for a long time!" enthused a man dressed in a formal yet sturdy Tsaavan robe, patterned with geometric shapes. "I hope you are in good health?" The owner promptly led them to a quiet table in the back, separate from the other patrons.

"I am feeling much livelier now, thank you," said Seki, bestowing his mask-like smile upon the man. "_Iskanda_ beer for all of us, please." The four took their seats as the owner backed away, bowing excessively all the time.

"They know you well here, huh?" remarked Rhezu, taking in the paintings of the craggy Tsaavan hills and its wild, thorny valleys. Tatara poured everyone a glass of water from the wooden pitcher set in the table's center.

Merely glancing at him in response, Seki asked, "Have you ever been to Iskenaatsun, Rhezanu?"

"Icka-what?"

"The capital of the Tsaavo region," prompted Halina softly. "Iskenaatsun's the big port on the Bay of Haviz. I once had to travel there on business."

"Oh, yeah," mumbled Rhezu, taking a big slice of the spongy pita bread. "You're in the book business, right, Halina?" She nodded, and settled deeper into the cushioning of her chair. At that moment, the owner hustled to the table with a tray of brimming glasses. The orange liquid glowed red in the light and gave off a pungent scent of adrenaline.

"_Iskanda_ was first brewed in Iskenaatsun," explained Seki, picking up his glass and admiring the gleaming colors. He looked pointedly at Rhezu. "Tsaavan legend says the first brewers added human blood for the extra spice. Is that not right, Master Rundrisg?"

"That's true, but it's a legend only," the owner replied emphatically. "We don't use any such ingredients now. Eh, we never did anyway, heh." Rhezu frowned at the "now," and Halina's eyes widened. "Ha, ha," laughed Rundrisg nervously. "People just love the sensational Tsaavan stories about our maneaters." Rubbing his hands, he backed away from the table. Once Rundrisg's bowing bald head disappeared, Rhezu demanded, "Seki, what's this talk about maneaters? Have you found the third one?"

"Alas, I have not." Rhezu groaned inwardly as the infinitely patient smile appeared again on his host's face. "I mentioned it because I thought our young lady here might be interested in the human blood aspect. You see, Halina stumbled across our two maneaters in a rather unfortunate manner." The policemen jerked at the news. "Ah, that is right, you did not know yet, Tatara. Sharlen and Dhuzel have returned if you wish to pay them a visit."

Halina giggled sheepishly. "Sharlen, who's a vampire, tried to suck my blood," she told Rhezu.

"By the way, Halina," continued Seki, "it may interest you to hear that Dhuzel hails from Iskenaatsun."

"I thought you said you raised them from bi—" Rhezu's statement stopped when Tatara kicked him sharply in the shin. "Dammit!" Reaching down to massage his throbbing leg, Rhezu at first didn't notice the abrupt change in Seki's expression. When he looked up, he saw the icy glare of a Sakurazukamori who had threatened to kill him and Kedi if they talked, and not the tea salesman who baked delicious cookies for his customers. A confused and mildly fearful look appeared on Halina's face. The conversation died completely, and everyone resorted to drinking and eating bread instead. Eventually Rundrisg, who'd clearly assumed personal responsibility for serving his most prized customer, delivered an enormous platter of assorted meats and roasted vegetables. By now, Seki's mood had improved. "Please, try the beef first. It is the Tsaavans' specialty."

They ate mostly in silence, with Seki giving Rhezu and Halina occasional comments about Tsaavan cooking. With great relief, Halina looked at her watch and announced, "Forgive me, Seki, but I need to go to my meeting. Thank you for the lovely lunch." Gathering her briefcase, she smiled at Rhezu and Tatara. "Hope we get another chance to talk. I'll see you later!"

Seki watched until the young woman disappeared out the front door. "Halina is lovely, is she not? I think it quite fortunate she is one of the first Shomas to make the acquaintance of my Dzuni."

" 'My Dzuni'?" growled Rhezu, failing to notice the imperceptible stiffening of Tatara's cheeks. "You don't own them, Seki!"

"My dear, when did I ever claim that?" asked Seki in a mock-hurt voice. "You make me sound like a slave trader. Surely you must know that is not the case. Tatara, would you say that you are a slave?"

"Ahh…"

"No, you are not," declared Seki firmly. "Remember that, Tatara. You still tend to forget it often."

"What're you talking about?" asked Rhezu. He tried to think of where in the world slavery still existed. "Were you a slave once, Tatara?"

"No!" yelled Tatara, turning heads in the restaurant. His supple fingers gripped the glass hard enough to make the veins visible, and he took a long, angry draw of _iskanda._

Seki smirked, and before Rhezu could recover he commented, "That was an excellent meal, was it not?" As if by an unseen signal, Rundrisg rushed to their table. "I would like to compliment the chef, please." The owner looked bewildered—Hothan customers would normally never bother with such a request. Smiling profusely, he bowed. "Of course, of course! You do me too much honor, sire!"

A few minutes passed, and summarily Rundrisg reappeared with the chef trailing him. "This is Tsendiza Janda, our new top chef. We had the fortune of acquiring him last month," announced Rundrisg, gesturing back towards Tsendiza. The chef's plain scarlet robe contrasted with the patterns that dominated the place's decorative scheme. Rectangular blue eyes set in a face with creamy skin met Seki's first, then Rhezu's, then Tatara's.

"Oh, _drápu_," whispered Tatara, who then turned his concentration back to his unfinished plate. Rhezu missed the cursing because he was too busy watching Seki's almost gleeful air, like a naughty child who'd discovered his favorite candy hidden in the larder.

"Tsendiza," said Seki, who then proceeded in a language Rhezu couldn't comprehend. He guessed that it was Tsaavan. The chef smiled and sat down next to Seki.

"You're too generous," laughed Tsendiza, switching to Hothan to include the rest of the table. "I'm still relatively new to the art of cooking. I've worked in restaurants for only six months."

"Nonsense!" boomed Rundrisg. "You have the natural feel for food. Why, he's already supervising under-chefs in my kitchen!" he proudly announced to the table.

"Which is why I can afford to leave the kitchen for now," added Tsendiza, his straight black hair catching the amber glow of the overhanging lamp. It looks too black, thought Rhezu, suddenly drawn to the shoulder-length hair. Like an amateur dye job, Tsendiza's lacked any subtle hues or depth.

"Particularly the meat," said Seki, picking up the conversation. "How do you get it so tender? I had absolutely no trouble chewing it."

Rundrisg jumped in. "You can trust them with your cooking secrets, Tsendiza. I must go and make sure the staff aren't being lazy." As soon as the proprietor moved out of hearing range, Seki smiled gently at Tsendiza. The scene alerted Rhezu's police instincts. Tsendiza sat with assurance, but his expression had dropped just a bit when the owner left. And Seki was never one to start a meaningless conversation.

"Yes, particularly the meat," repeated Seki. "The secret is to use young animals only, correct?"

The chef nodded slowly. "Older animals yield tougher meat. It's a well-known fact." The blue eyes narrowed slightly, as though trying to measure the enigmatic customer.

Dropping his voice to a seductive whisper, Seki said, "I seem to recall that in the old days, the maneaters of Tsaavo preferred to kill young people, for that reason."

A chill struck Rhezu, and Tsendiza appeared to remain cool, betrayed by a small shoulder jerk. "My two companions here," continued Seki, "are among the finest members of Lhasa's police force. They have been working on the cases of the two missing socialites."

"Yes, terrible cases. I hope you find them soon," murmured Tsendiza, regaining his composure. Rhezu turned to Tatara, and mouthed "Maneater?" The_ borustang_ nodded in response.

"Be quiet, Rhezu," Seki suddenly ordered, keeping his voice quiet enough not to attract undue interest. The outraged exclamation died in the detective's throat, as Seki's profound eyes bore into his. "Tsendiza, what is your real name?"

"That is my real name," insisted the chef, aiming a deadly glare at Seki.

"You would be no match for me," said Seki softly, effortlessly returning the look. "Now, what is your real name?" The staring contest endured for a few minutes more, during which Tatara calmly polished off his food.

Tsendiza finally spoke, defeated. "Thoshetu." He adjusted his seat, and faced the policemen defiantly. "It's what a storeowner once called me, when I kept stealing food from him and he couldn't catch me. I don't have a family name."

"You will now. It's Shoma." Seki patted Tsendiza, now Thoshetu, reassuringly on the shoulder, and then said, "These policemen will protect you from arrest. Please cooperate with us, and I'll make sure you never have trouble finding the proper food again. This life is too risky for you. Besides, you need to rejoin your two fellow maneaters. They've waited a long time to meet you."

At five o'clock that afternoon, Tatara and Rhezu met with the Chief and declared the Ghumani and Laghiri cases "iced over." It was the category set aside for cases that were not yet "dead," with no hope for resolution. Rhezu could feel the sweat in his armpits as he told Chief that none of the leads had panned out, no witnesses were available, and that the cases didn't seem to be working out. "All right," said Chief, "We'll let the cases sit for two weeks, then review the files again."

When Rhezu and Tatara returned to their shared office space, Rhezu hissed, "Gods! I can't believe I just covered up a fucking double homicide!"

"No," corrected Tatara, "A double homicide is when two people are murdered at the same time. These were single homicides a month apart." Rhezu glowered at his partner.

"Doesn't it frustrate you at all, Tatara?"

"These maneaters are Dzunis."

"Being a Dzuni doesn't give you a free pass to moon the law! Look at Shoma Haku—do you see him letting that ghost wolf run wild all over the place, killing innocent people at will?" Tatara's uncomprehending look stopped Rhezu's tirade. "Oh, I guess you don't know him."

"No, I don't," agreed Tatara, sliding open his desk drawer and pulling out the Laghiri file. "But the maneaters have no choice. They need human meat."

"You're just as impossible as Seki," groaned Rhezu, crashing onto his chair. A loud slap echoed through the cramped space as Tatara slammed the file onto his desk. The gray eyes burned with fury, and Tatara opened his mouth. The burst dissipated suddenly, as the intended fighting words escaped in an extended sigh. "Go home and rest, Rhezu. I'll finish the files." No words passed between the two for five minutes.

"Tatara?"

"Hm-mm?"

"Does slavery have something to do with your loyalty to Seki?" Tatara didn't respond.


	9. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I don't own FB, TB, or PsoH, or anything else you recognize.

**Chapter 8**—_Wednesday_

As usual, the alley was completely silent. Sharlen couldn't see or hear any sign of movement, animal or human, as he peered around the corner of a used bookstore. Satisfied, he slipped casually into the alley, picking his way over the decrepit pavement. There were several restaurants in this area, so the dumpsters overflowed with refuse. Sharlen opened his mouth slightly, to spare his nose the awful smells. He'd forgotten that the trash pickup wasn't until the next day. Momentarily, he wished that Seki hadn't insisted on their coming through the back way whenever they stopped by. He and Dhuzel no longer stayed at the teashop while they were in Lhasa; instead, they took a hotel room.

Stumbling over loose chunks of asphalt, Sharlen reached the fifth door on the right, the teashop's "back way." He stepped into a dark enclave. An open passageway in front of him led directly to the teashop; a hidden door in the shadows to his left led to the Dzuni rooms. He opened the hidden door. The intoxicating scent of the moonarrow flower, one of Seki's favorites, then engulfed him. Sharlen instinctively wrinkled his nose. He had despised moonarrow's seductive fragrance since he was a small child. He no longer remembered the moment he started hating it.

At last, the narrow passageway lightened, and Sharlen entered an airy common room. The wild faces of Hot Ice, the popular band of the moment, stared at him from all four walls. Sharlen chuckled—evidently, his younger sister had gained control of this room since the last time he'd been here. All of the younger Dzunis had their particular rooms they liked in this place. When he still lived here, Sharlen regularly staked a claim in a small alcove that was perfect for reading and writing. Naturally, it was on the opposite side of Seki's shop, as far away as possible.

An enthusiastic hug from behind nearly choked Sharlen. "Brother!" yelled Zian, "It's been too long! How are you?" Her fuchsia pigtails bounced as she hopped in front of him. "Did Dhuzel come with you?"

"No, he didn't want to see Seki now," whispered Sharlen. Zian's smile sobered. "I'm surprised you're here," she said. "And Seki is in the shop now, so you can speak up if you want."

The ragged sofa creaked as Sharlen settled into it. "That sofa's almost as hard as a rock, why don't you sit here instead?" exclaimed Zian. "Oh, well, whatever. There's more important things, like why you didn't come to see me earlier." There was no malice in her voice; rather, she already sensed what his answer would be.

"I was over at the house," Sharlen said simply. Right away Zian knew that he'd been watching their parents again. Since he was ten years old, Sharlen had snuck over to the Shoma estate so he could see what the older Dzuni were doing, what they were like. This all happened behind Seki's back, of course, and it was incredibly risky. The first time Sharlen went out, the phantom wolf had nearly found him. Zian hadn't followed in Sharlen's footsteps; she felt, rightly, that she couldn't evade Seki or the demons well enough. Her abilities to create and control illusions did not match Seki's.

"How are Mom and Dad?" asked Zian. It'd been a long time since Sharlen's last report on the main estate's happenings, and she hungered for information.

"They're fine," replied Sharlen. "Our father seems antsy, though. I couldn't tell why." Nowadays, absentmindedness plagued Haku, and Sharlen hadn't detected the ghost wolf's presence at all. Previously Sharlen would have to retreat from Dzin-E at least once per visit, if the wolf were in Lhasa. He wondered if the phantom and his father were fighting again—it wouldn't be surprising considering their difficult natures.

"Antsy, like how?"

"Oh…he knows something the rest of the older Dzuni don't. He won't tell Mother about it, anyway. She keeps asking him what's wrong, and he brushes her off."

"I hope they don't fall out."

"No, they won't," reassured Sharlen. "They've been through too much weird stuff together now."

"I suppose so." The children had picked up bits from Seki about their parents' tempestuous childhoods and the infamous Asheno, the last family head under the defunct curse. "What secret does Dad have?" Zian kicked her legs back and forth, excitedly pondering the thought.

"Zian, it could be the Dzuni, money matters, or naughty ideas about Mother—"

"Ew!" The teenage girl flinched automatically. "Sharlen, the image of our parents doing the nasty is way too gross for comprehension!"

"Well, Zian—" A well-aimed pillow hit Sharlen in the face, and silenced him effectively. Smirking and flipping the pillow off his lap, he laughed hysterically. Zian rolled her eyes, but there was an unmistakable gleam in them.

"And it couldn't be money," began Zian, "because the Shomas are still filthy rich. Why should Dad be worried with Khureno barfing up gold and precious gems all over the place?"

"Khureno would be horribly offended, hearing you use 'barfing up.' It's too plebeian for him. 'Vomiting' would be more appropriate." Sharlen wagged a finger and made an exaggerated frown. "You know Dad and the others still have no idea that Khureno is literally right below their feet. I managed to visit him this time, too, by the way." Shoma Khureno, the true god of the Dzuni, had been raised with Sharlen at first. For eight years, Sharlen had lived in the Shoma estate's underground apartments with Khureno. The family had forgotten these splendid apartments' location several centuries ago, after the old curse began. The young Dzuni, excepting Sharlen, rarely saw Khureno because Seki believed it too risky to take them to the estate frequently. Zian saw Khureno in person only once, when she was six years old. Her memories of him steadily blurred over time, until all that remained was a vague sensation of a blazing golden light.

"Khureno's all right, of course," continued Sharlen, sighing. "But he's getting angrier and more frustrated every day."

"Like you," added Zian pointedly.

"Seki's getting weaker," he whispered eagerly. "One of these days someone will be able to break through his barriers. Khureno, probably—he's the most powerful of all of us." The young Dzuni knew that Seki had placed magical seals on their god's apartment to keep intruders out, and on Khureno's powers as well. The seals allowed Seki, Sharlen, and Khureno's younger sister Sheleru to pass through, but nobody else unless they were accompanied by one of the three.

Zian's insides squirmed slightly. Listening to Sharlen plan for Seki's demise had never been comfortable for her. The rancor in his tone brought out his ugly side, not the playful and sometimes perverted Sharlen she most enjoyed chatting with. "Is he still working on the stuffed animals?" For the past three years, Khureno had been sewing together toy versions of each Dzuni's animal forms, using leftover cloth and materials from Seki's shop.

"He complained to me about how difficult it is to replicate your hair color," said Sharlen. "Fake fuchsia hair doesn't exist in abundant amounts."

"Oh, but I'm so happy I don't have mousy hair like a lot of Hothans." Zian redid her plait, which sported several runaway strands.

"You stand out, I assure you, except from the other 1,000 Hot Ice fans in Lhasa who wear the same baggy khakis and skimpy tank tops. Judging from the glazed looks on the band members' faces, I'd say they're all drug addicts. Dhuzel and I ought to avoid them—heroin is remarkably addictive, you know." Shooting Sharlen an exasperated look, Zian harrumphed.

"Enough from me," said Sharlen. "Now tell me how everyone's doing here."

Zian pursed her lips, and fingered the irregularly shaped turquoise beads around her wrist. "You know the policeman and his little brother, who've been coming here lately?"

"Yes, but I haven't actually seen them yet. Is it true that Seki intends for them to smooth our transition to the main house?"

"I guess so. That's what I overheard Seki saying the first time they came. The little boy, Kedi, is a sweetheart. Sira, Lafi, and I play with him."

"Lafidzi?" Sharlen's thin brows rose, interested. "Did he react oddly to her?"

"Sira says he thought Lafi was his dead mother. Pretty intense, apparently. But Lafi's so good at reading people that she handled it fine."

"Indeed. Poor kid."

"At first I thought Rhezanu—the older brother—blamed Kedi for their mother dying. She died giving birth to Kedi. But now I think Rhezu just doesn't know how to deal with his grief constructively."

Nodding understandingly, Sharlen assented, "That's often the case. Tell me more about this Rhezu. He's Tatara's partner now, isn't he?"

"Rhezu's the opposite of Tatara in many ways—sloppy, impulsive, and emotional. Tatara said he has good instincts, though, and for Tatara, that's high praise! He's Shoma Khezuke's son, by the way."

"Oh, I remember him now. I saw Rhezu on the estate every once in a while. Tatara must be getting old if he can get along with someone like Rhezu."

"Tatara's known you for a long time, remember."

"True." Sharlen smiled crookedly. "Halina told me that Rhezu is deeply suspicious of Seki and doesn't like him much. That was the impression she got during their lunch last Monday."

"Yeah…" Zian trailed off. "I want you to talk to Tatara. I think being with Rhezu is shaking his loyalty to Seki."

"Finally!" sighed Sharlen. "That'll make the transition easier."

"Whoa, hold on," said Zian. "I only said 'I think,' not 'I know.' I have no clue what's passed between Rhezu and Tatara. It's just…Tatara's been so quiet lately, too quiet. And he isn't as blunt as he used to be. I accidentally left a bunch of books in the middle of a hallway yesterday, right in front of his door, and he didn't even notice. You know how anal-retentive he is about messes. Everybody's noticed how weird Tatara's acting. Beri complained to Seki yesterday that Tatara hadn't been to visit her in several days. She drives Tatara crazy, granted, but he genuinely loves her anyway." Beri was short for Ghoberen, the name of Tatara's younger sister.

"I'll talk to him, and don't worry, I'll be careful," promised Sharlen. Truthfully, he didn't savor the idea of this errand. When Tatara decided to turn to stone, getting any

meaningful feedback was usually hopeless. Sharlen felt certain that Rhezu had inadvertently started tapping into Tatara's painful past. Few things would make the _borustang_ so reluctant to talk.

In his reverie, Sharlen missed Zian's question. "You found the third maneater, right?"

"What? Oh, yes. Rather, Seki found Setu working at a restaurant around the corner."

"So near! That's ironic after Seki pulled out his hair over him for so long." giggled Zian.

"Setu just came to Lhasa two months ago, when the police in Rhenigroth became too suspicious. Halina left right before Seti's unmasking in the restaurant, so she didn't meet him until last night." Zian met Halina last week, and her feelings were mixed. She almost wished that Halina had been a man instead, because while Halina wasn't particularly stunning, she always dressed attractively and possessed a pleasant and easy personality. And she could get along well with maneaters, which very few normal women could do, as Zian knew. At least Halina was staying in her own apartment, and not with Dhuzel and Sharlen.

"…Setu moved in with us that night," continued Sharlen, "and Halina came over to meet him. She made quite an impression on Setu, I must say, as much as she did on Dhuzel."

"And she hasn't had any effect on you?" Zian could barely keep the spiteful edge out of the question.

Sharlen looked at her, surprised, then frowned. "Come on, Zian, don't be immature. You're my little sister, and I'll always love you."

"Really, Sharlen, do you have any feelings for her?" pressed Zian in a gentler tone, and feeling a little guilty for insulting her brother.

"No," replied Sharlen. The immediate response puzzled Zian. If all the teen books she'd read were accurate, love was not easy to figure out right away.

"Are you sure? I mean, I still remember what Seki told you, and this could be the best opportunity for you, Dhuzel, and Setu." Zian was referring to a summer day eight years ago, when Seki had revealed to Sharlen and Dhuzel that the Dzuni maneaters were required to share the same mate, if they ever chose to do so. This rule had been put into place hundreds of years ago, after a series of romantic tragedies involving lovers, wives, and husbands who couldn't take the maneaters' unusual lifestyles.

"We haven't decided anything yet," Sharlen finally said vaguely. Sensing that it would be wise to change the subject to something less sensitive, Zian asked what kind of animal Setu was. Sharlen took the bait with relief. "He's what the Tsaavans call a 'demon

dog.'"

"That sounds scary."

"Funny you should say that," chuckled Sharlen, "because he's quite adorable in his animal shape. He's the size of a lapdog, and has long platinum blonde fur, the silky kind, and a fan tail. The hair on his face is short, and he's got big baby blues and a set of curved horns on his head."

"A cross between a sheep and a dog?"

"Kind of."

"When will you introduce the rest of us to him?"

"Later this week. Do you know when Tatara returns here, by the way?"

"That's a silly question to ask, Sharlen, and you know it."

"He still stays at the police station all the time, hmm? Luckily, I'm a night owl myself, so I ought to catch him sooner or later." Sharlen glanced at his wristwatch, and groaned lightly. "I suppose I should pay my respects to Seki. He'll be offended if I don't."

"On the contrary, I think he'd understand if you didn't. He said to me the other day…" A light popping sound occurred, and Seki's head replaced Zian's. The monotonous voice spoke, " 'I have become resigned to my fate, my dear. I see no reason to be as impatient with your shenanigans as before.'" Another pop, and Zian's head returned.

"I'll go see him anyway."


	10. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I don't own TB, FB, PSOH, or anything else you recognize.

**Chapter 9**—_Friday_

Lekhuma Seki closed his shop at noon in order to prepare for that night's banquet. It was Setu's welcoming party. Despite feeling winded all day, Seki worked furiously, sparing no expense. In the morning, he placed a large catering order at the Three Seas restaurant in the downtown district, which specialized in fine cuisine from Hoth, Gogotha, and Zi Alda. The wide variety of foods, he hoped, would satisfy everybody, including his guest of honor's refined palate. Between the familiar Hothan foods and the hearty yet plain Zi Aldan dishes, the child Kedi ought to be able to eat well, too. Naturally, he would take charge of the desserts himself.

Yes, he had invited Kedi, his older brother, and Halina as well. Seki felt it was high time that all three should meet more of the Dzuni. He had felt it in his bones last night as he watched the mountains obscure more and more of the incandescent sun—his death approached faster and faster. Keeping two Dzuni confined to their Shoma estate basement apartments was all he could muster the energy for now. He gave thanks that the phantom wolf appeared to have heeded its master's request to leave him alone. He would be able to avoid the traitor's death that befell Sakurazukamoris who were judged incompetent by the demons.

Of course, Sharlen—whom he had sent to pick up the food—and the remaining two maneaters were dithering far too much with Halina. The fools. He could not afford for them to pass up their one opportunity at happiness, especially now.

Seki paused in his plate setting as an invisible vise squeezed his lungs. Gasping and sitting in the nearest chair, he sat upright to give his diaphragm more room to expand. The discomfort subsided quickly, and he opened his eyes again. Yes, he could not let the maneaters miss their opportunity. Many times in the past, maneater Dzunis had simply turned to each other for love and sex, and that had often worked well. However, while Sharlen could undoubtedly adjust to homosexuality, Dhuzel and Setu would not handle it well. Seki did not want Sharlen, one of his dearest loved, to go through such awkwardness and pain.

Deciding to rest a little longer just to be safe, Seki's thought chain ventured on to deeper motives. Of course, Halina provided a perfect opportunity to ensure the continuation of the Sakurazukamori tradition. All the family lineages that had yielded Sakurazukamoris before the curse's era had petered out over the centuries. Halina held no magical abilities herself, but from his studies as a youngster, Seki knew that the most powerful Sakurazukamoris resulted from utterly boring and normal mothers. He had been such a one—otherwise, he wouldn't have survived this long. It didn't matter whether or not the fathers had any magical abilities. Only the mothers, who gave their blood and flesh to their infants, mattered. With the spiritual realm still in such tatters, Seki felt it absolutely imperative that a strong sorceror reappear swiftly.

It was unprecedented for a Sakurazukamori to be born into the Shoma family. Alas, Seki had not planned for his sudden death, and the clock ticked away very loudly in his ears. "Sakurazuka Sezuko," he whispered to himself, "you must be strong a while longer." With great effort, Seki lifted his heavy-feeling body out of the chair, and resumed the task of setting the great dining hall table. He would bring out his finest silver for the platters and serving ware, he decided. This would be his last banquet—afterwards, he would become too weak to give any others.

He arranged the utensils, lining them up perfectly with the napkin edges. Fingering one delicately painted china plate, adorned by an image of a writhing dragon, Seki sank into deep thought. "Two weeks," he finally said aloud. "That will be the best time to make it." Zian, who'd stepped into the room to ask him something, looked at him quizzically, not understanding the cryptic utterance.

They lied to their parents to slip away to the banquet. Rhezu told his father he would take Kedi out to a special brother-brother dinner. Khoru told his parents that he and Sheleru were going to see a movie, and Sheleru told hers the same thing. Even so, her mother, Hotohori, couldn't refrain from raising her eyebrows at the good dress Sheleru wore. Sea-green silk was far too good for a movie. An exchange of glances with her husband Khosure told her that he agreed.

"I was just in the mood to wear it," insisted Sheleru, laughing nervously. At that moment, Khoru rang the doorbell, and her parents' concern lessened slightly when they saw Khoru in his usual jeans and t-shirt. His arrival saved Sheleru from a potentially damaging interrogation by Hotohori, who could wield questions as well as her surgical knife at the hospital.

Eventually, the four reached the teashop safely, although Rhezu arrived late due to a minor rear-ending. Despite his illness, Seki didn't fail to remonstrate him. "Darling Rhezu, you must stop scowling in such a frightening manner. This is a joyous occasion." He gave his saintliest smile, causing Rhezu's mood to blacken further. "I am sure your father will forgive the damage to his car soon."

"Like hell he'll find out."

"Your younger brother may be too excited to keep quiet," chuckled Seki weakly, watching Kedi frolic with Sira's shadow Derga. "He has become quite attached to the jaguars already, I see."

"Jaguars? Are they dangerous?" hissed Rhezu. An offended growl sounded from below his waist, and he turned his head to meet Zeisna's disapproving appraisal. The older shadow tossed his head and strutted away.

"Only if Sira tells them to attack you," answered a man flippantly. "So we finally meet, Rhezu." A deathly pale man with bluish-black hair came up to the policeman. "My name's Shoma Sharlen. I've heard a lot about you from Halina and Tatara. I'm one of the maneaters, by the way," whispered Sharlen conspiratorially, leaning into Rhezu. "I know I look a little pale right now, but I'll be fine once I get a little blood inside me. You seem like my type, Rhezu." Leaving the grinning vampire behind, Rhezu sought out his partner's familiar violet hair.

He found Tatara speaking with the restaurant chef and a muscular tanned man, whom he presumed to be a Dzuni as well, by the banquet table. The strange man and Tatara seemed at ease, exchanging internal jokes Rhezu understood nothing of. The chef, on the other hand, looked as awkward as Rhezu felt. He obviously didn't know many of the Dzuni here, judging from how closely he stood to the tanned man. For a moment Rhezu felt a pang of sympathy, then he remembered the lost teens, and his heart hardened again.

"Rhezu," said Tatara, sensing the hesitant presence behind him. The _borustang _gestured curtly for him to come into the group. "I believe you already know Thoshetu, which is his proper name, from the restaurant. Setu for short." They inclined their heads politely while eyeing each other suspiciously. "And this is Shoma Dhuzel, one of the maneaters. The one who was teasing you earlier is Sharlen."

"You heard what he said to me?" muttered Rhezu out of the side of his mouth. Despite the lowered voice, the animal senses of Dhuzel and Setu picked up the utterance easily.

The tips of Tatara's mouth curved up ruefully. "You are not his type."

"Sharlen has very clear preferences for certain blood types," added Setu, watching Rhezu's reaction intently. "You strike me as too tense for his taste." Dhuzel put a warning hand on Setu's shoulder, and he reluctantly backed off. While he glowered at Setu, Rhezu noticed platinum blonde hair roots that hadn't existed before. So the cannibal chef had dyed his hair black as a disguise.

"No one's getting arrested," said Tatara softly. "And Rhezu, leave him alone."

"Yes, you don't want to become easy prey for us, Rhezu. Oops, sorry." Sharlen's fingers flew to his mouth in an exaggerated expression of alarm. "I forgot I wasn't supposed to tease the policeman with bad maneating puns." Tatara heaved a sigh, and even Dhuzel couldn't stifle a snicker. Setu beamed, exposing unusually pointed canines. The sight sent a cold ripple down Rhezu's spine, and he imagined those canines biting into the Ghumani boy's thick thigh muscles. As if reading Rhezu's mind, Setu said, "No, I always cook my food first. You get more flavor that way."

The door in the back of the living room opened, revealing a fashionably late Halina and ending the conversation's turn towards the gruesome. A relieved Dhuzel and a suddenly ecstatic Setu rushed to Halina right away, but Sharlen lingered. "I hope we didn't spoil your appetite, Rhezu. As much as we both hate Seki, he does know where to get the most magnificent food. Hm, Setu's fallen in love hard with Halina already." Sharlen winked at Rhezu, and then he joined the group by the door.

"You see?" asked Tatara. "They aren't as terrible as you think. Just give Setu room—he's been hiding from the police too long to feel comfortable around us yet."

A small hand tugged Rhezu's shirt when he was about to nod in grudging acquiescence. "Come on!" piped up Kedi, cheeks flushed from chasing Derga. "Seki says dinner's ready."

Magnificent food, indeed. A long table for thirteen diners had been covered in a lustrous, feather-light ivory silk tablecloth. The vibrant figures on the painted chinaware stood out clearly against the simple cloth. Rhezu saw that his plate contained a painting of a boar running through a forest. He guessed that Seki seated him there on purpose, since he was the boar's son. Kedi had the scarlet dragon. None of the elegant plates portrayed the Dzuni animals of the younger generation, only the ones that Rhezu was already familiar with at the Shoma estate. His father had once taken him inside the Dzuni banquet room, and he'd walked all around the enormous blackwood table examining the intricately carved chairs and staring at the antique tapestries. It was one of the few times Rhezu was allowed a glimpse into the secret world of the Dzuni; no outsiders were admitted to the New Year's Dzuni banquet.

Seki had decided to forgo courses, which were too cumbersome for him to handle. Instead, he put all the salads, soups, sides, and main dishes on the table at once. He sat at the head of the table, watching patiently with hands folded in his lap as the bowls went round. He observed everyone taking generous helpings of the juicy tropical fruit arrangements, choosing delicious cuts of the meats he had labored to keep hot, and scoop up healthy spoonfuls of Zi Aldan squash and greenery from rainy Western Hoth. Throughout the banquet, Seki smiled, which mystified most of the diners as usual. Only Sharlen and Lafidzi, from long practice, could perceive a deep sadness.

At first conversation stalled, since everybody expected Seki to say or do the thing they'd thought he summoned them for. Gradually, as the guardian calmly cuts his own food and remained silent, they turned their attention to the newcomer and the three outsiders. Zian peppered Setu with probing questions, and Halina and Sharlen joined her, though they chose somewhat more tactful queries. Dhuzel kept a morose silence as Setu recounted his life drifting from one country to the next. Kedi, sitting with Sira, helped her feed the jaguars table scraps.

Rhezu sat with Tatara, next to Seki. Khoru and Sheleru claimed the seats across from the policemen.

"How long have you two been friends?" asked Sheleru, eating a sumptuous sea bass dish.

"Not friends," corrected Khoru curtly, not taking his eyes off his plate. "Partners."

"Oh, partners," laughed Sheleru. "Tatara, you didn't tell me you were gay." This provoked a loud laugh from Sharlen and the other Dzunis down the table, who all overheard.

"We're police partners," said Tatara flatly.

"Seki, how in the gods' name did you pay for all this? It's too damn good to come from someplace cheap," garbled Rhezu through a full mouth of meat stew. An amused look played across the host's even features as he watched his guest shovel in the food like a starving barbarian from the mountains.

"He doesn't need to pay for it," mumbled Khoru audibly, raising his eyes for the first time.

"Khoru!" Tatara glared at him, exasperated. Seki shook his head in appeasement. "It's all right. We have a natural compendium of wealth, after all. We do not want here."

"So how do you get the money?" asked Rhezu.

"I do dislike discussing money," remarked Seki. "It is highly crass, in my opinion. I have noticed that those who talk about it most are the ones most desperate to show it off." Rhezu rolled his eyes. No use pressing when Seki was in a pontificating mood. Instead, he scanned the table. Kedi was obviously enjoying himself with the shadows. The silent, black-haired girl on the other side of Sira grabbed Rhezu's notice. Elbowing Tatara, he asked, "Who's that?"

"Lafidzi. The one I told you about." Rhezu gazed at her steadily, and, feeling his gaze on her body, the delicate woman's hands stopped picking at her food and she returned the look. For a fleeting moment, Rhezu saw his mother sitting in that chair, and then her contours melted back into Lafidzi's. He blinked, and half-smiled awkwardly. There seemed to be no better way to thank her. She and her "third eye" stared at him a while longer, then returned to the food.

"She understands," whispered Sheleru, who watched the whole interaction. "You don't need to speak to her for her to know." Her eyes misted over with sentiment. By now Rhezu was getting used to everyone seemingly knowing his thoughts and actions. He'd been around Seki long enough, he realized. "Why can I see her real form now?" he asked Tatara.

"You know who she is now," shrugged the _borustang_. "You'll probably flash back and forth between your mother and Lafidzi, though."

Dinner went on for an hour, the conversation ebbing and flowing steadily. Then, Seki conjured the empty bowls and plates out of sight, and exquisite dessert displays—candy bowls, cakes, pies—replaced the dirty dishes. The desserts took another forty-five minutes. When everybody had sated their appetites and were sitting back in their chairs, Seki finally stood up. Any remaining chatter instantly died down. The moment had come.

"This has been an absolutely wonderful dinner." He smiled, almost to the brink of showing his teeth. No one was accustomed to such a deep smile from him, and most of the Dzuni felt a little frightened. "I could not have asked for the night to go more smoothly than it has. But doubtless as you know, I rarely do anything without having a purpose in mind. Tonight, I have two very important announcements to make.

"I know that four of us are not here." Rhezu had counted only nine Dzuni, and he knew there were thirteen among the younger generation. No one had bothered to tell him where the rest were, maybe because of his close proximity to Seki. "I will talk to the rest on my own; there is no need to inform them yourselves." The brown eyes swept over the table warningly, and locked with Sharlen's defiant maroon eyes. "It is essential that none of them be given the wrong information." The maroon eyes flickered, and Seki knew that he'd called Sharlen's bluff. The young man really didn't understand what was going on.

Seki bent down carefully to the floor, and when he straightened back up, his hands cradled an ornately carved wooden box. Everyone stared at it, even Kedi—blackwood items were a true rarity. The box was relatively small—the size of a large man's hand in length and width, and a little over half a hand deep—but no one could tell how much Seki needed to strain to keep the heavy receptacle aloft. "Here is an object that all of you, except for our honored guests, are familiar with. Or, should I say, you are familiar with the box itself. I have never permitted anyone here to look inside." Halina surreptitiously glanced around the table, and saw shocked and panicked expressions on every Dzuni's face.

"I am afraid I've been rather dire with my past warnings." Seki smiled bemusedly, taking in his audience's reactions. "It is only an egg." He laid the box gently on the tablecloth, and lifted its top to reveal an ostrich-sized egg resting upon a blood-red velvet cushion. The egg appeared quite ordinary in its slightly yellowish coloring, and two separate cracks snaked across its girth and from its narrow end.

The maneaters, seated at the opposite end from Seki, had all stood up to view the egg better. Disbelief gradually overtook the fear that had been on Dhuzel and Sharlen's faces. Lafidzi's eyes had widened momentarily, but now she seemed as serene as ever. The jaguars started breaking their protective ring around Sira, Zian and Kedi, after they saw that the egg would not explode or shoot a stream of poison. "That's what you told us never to touch, or it'd kill us?" gasped Dhuzel. Setu and Halina exchanged puzzled shrugs.

"Do you remember Honlon?" Seki asked Dhuzel, in the same tone one uses to ask the time of day. He repeated the question when he only received a jaw drop from Dhuzel.

"Y-Yeah. Yes, of course I remember her," stuttered Dhuzel. "I mean, what you told us about her."

"Do you think you could repeat it for the benefit of our guests, please?"

At first Dhuzel stumbled, uncomfortably confused. "Honlon is a four-headed dragon, er…fr-from Gogotha, I think…Yes, from the mountainous strip of land between Hoth and Gogotha." Then he found his balance. "But she has four heads only while in her animal form. Each of the heads has its own personality, and Honlon retains all four personalities in her human form. Though her human form has only one head, the personalities appear at different times and can speak for themselves. That's what I remember, Seki."

"She's got multiple personality disorder?" asked Rhezu.

"My dear Rhezu, that is not accurate, and it has so much stigma attached to it," chastised Seki. "You did a good job, Dhuzel, sit back down. I shall explain what the egg has to do with Honlon. Right now she has only two of her four personalities. Her Dzuni demon possesses the first one. The second personality is the same as the mother who gives birth to the Dzuni. The remaining two come from whoever touches the egg after she is born.

"The two cracks you see in the egg here," continued Seki, pointing into the box, represent the Dzuni demon's and the mother's personalities. Once a third person touches the egg, another crack will appear. When the fourth and final person touches it, the egg will break open, and all four of Honlon's personalities will be fully awakened.

"This is a dangerous duty entrusted only to the Sakurazukamori. I am responsible for making sure the right sorts of people touch the egg. If an evil person were to infect one of the personalities, there is no telling what would happen. However, I did not take such drastic steps to safeguard the egg from you because I thought you were evil. Quite the contrary—you seem to have turned out well."

"I'm flattered you think so highly of us, Seki," drawled Sharlen, balancing his fork on his fingertip. The fork slipped and clanged onto the plate.

"Where's Honlon?" whispered Kedi to Zian. She turned to Sira, who didn't know how to respond, either.

"I have raised Honlon separately, both for your safety and hers," continued Seki. "But I will leave in a month, so it is time for her to rejoin you soon." He placed his hands under the box, intending to lift it. As his arms tensed, their muscles deflated. No one noticed because his last statement caused an uproar.

"Leave us?" repeated Tatara. "What do you mean?"

Giving up on the box, Seki said softly in Zi Aldan, "It means, Tatara, that you must go to the Shoma estate."

Tatara's cheeks worked for a moment, distress etched clearly in his face's tightness. "There's nothing for me there," he responded desperately. Rhezu furiously wished he hadn't forgotten so much Zi Aldan since high school; he'd never seen his partner lose himself this much.

"I see," said Seki to Tatara softly, nodding slowly. Sharlen's ears picked up everything, and he passed it on to the others unabashedly. "We have to go to the Shoma estate?" Halina heard the shock in Dhuzel's voice. She saw the younger girls sitting in their chairs numbly, staring at Seki with their mouths open. Even Lafidzi seemed frozen.

"It's about time, Halina," whispered Sharlen, smiling. She could tell it was a bravado smile, though—his eyes didn't glint at all. He was just as caught off guard as the rest.

"Rhezu." The buzzing dropped at Seki's commanding voice. He held his hand out, palm outstretched, and motioned to Rhezu to take it. "What do you want?" demanded Rhezu. Seki didn't move. Gingerly raising his hand as though he were about to stick it in a bowl full of slimy noodles, Rhezu obeyed. Their hands met halfway, and Seki's felt comfortingly warm. The skin was slightly waxy, though, observed Rhezu.

"Ugk!" he grunted as Seki suddenly pulled him forward with a firm grip around his wrist. Their neighbors jerked back in their seats, and the chairs scraped the wooden floor. Rhezu felt his fingertips touch a hard object. For a long time, he could only see his fingers on top of the precious egg, with a new crack steadily extending from his ring finger. The fissure kept growing until it joined the one around the egg's girth. "Gods, Seki!" Rhezu heard someone exclaim. "What're you thinking? He has a terrible temper!"

The chandelier's lights blinked, and yelps filled the air as the room jolted violently once, making the china ring and clatter. Then, all was calm again.

"Congratulations, Rhezu." The smooth voice filled the graveyard silence. "You're the mother of Honlon's third personality now."

The egg turned icy to Rhezu's touch, and he pulled his hand back instantly, examining it. The old scar from a broken window still graced his palm—nothing had changed. "Seki, what the hell was that?" he yelled. "An earthquake?"

"A very minor one, I assure you." Seki set his wine glass right side up again. Miraculously, it had survived intact. "When the egg breaks finally, there will be a worse one. I shall have to supervise the event very carefully." Six pairs of eyes stared at Seki incredulously, and Zian deftly led a whimpering Kedi out of the room.

"And why am I the _mother_?" hissed Rhezu.

Halina sat in the backseat with Sharlen as Dhuzel drove her home. Setu looked out the passenger window at the passing Lhasa neighborhoods. Nobody talked; the night's happenings left them shellshocked. Soon the car pulled up to Halina's apartment building on the edge of Mhagenu, the area where the Shoma estate was located. Sharlen walked her to the door.

As the key turned in the lock, Halina paused and said, "Sharlen, don't you think it's strange that Seki never touched the egg himself?"

The vampire shrugged, his skin luminescent in the moonlight. "Maybe there's some arcane magical rule forbidding him to." He chuckled briefly. "Or maybe Seki didn't trust himself. Curious, isn't it? Have a good night, and don't let the vampires bite."


	11. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I don't own FB, TB, PSOH, or anything else you recognize.

**Chapter 10**—_Saturday Evening_

Khoru's loathing for his role as middleman between the hidden Dzunis and the Shoma estate grew in proportion to his dread of the moment that had just arrived.

His slight father, Lhurone, had marched into his room five minutes ago, overriding his son's yelling. Khoru was still lying on his bed, stubbornly turning away from his stern father and facing the wall. At least the wall didn't have eyes to burn holes into Khoru's body. He wasn't prepared to face his father when Lhurone was in a mood like this.

The famous flutist's placid personality had become well-known throughout Hoth and Gogotha. Symphony directors were grateful that there was one performer who didn't behave like a prima donna and who treated everybody with respect. The serene smile had vanished, however; a frustrated expression dominated Lhurone's countenance now. Khoru knew that his father's Dzuni, the winged horse, made it impossible for Lhurone to become angry without illness, but his stomach tensed nonetheless.

"Hotsukhoru." Lhurone spoke directly at the tangled strands of auburn and blonde hair on his son's head. "Sheleru's parents, and your mother and I are convinced that you didn't go to the movies last night. We want to make sure that you aren't in trouble."

"Dad, I said I don't want to talk about it!" snapped Khoru, hugging his pillow more tightly. Tears stung his eyes, and Khoru silently cursed himself. "Just leave me alone."

Lhurone fell silent after hearing the wobble in his son's voice. He bit his lower lip, and looked at Khoru closely. After a long time, Lhurone spoke again in a much softer voice. "Khoru, for the last two years, your mother and I have watched you steadily become more withdrawn. To be frank, your behavior reminds me of Shoma Haku when he was your age. As you know, Dzin-E subjected him to a long series of emotionally difficult visions, and exhausted him mentally and physically. He had a hard time talking to the rest of us about these visions, and kept them to himself. It was painful to watch him get thinner and sicker-looking as time went on." Khoru's hands continued clinging to the pillow. "What is going on, Khoru? Is there a problem at school? Do you have a problem with us?"

At that moment, Khoru wanted nothing more than to spill everything about the Sakurazukamori and the lost Dzuni. About the Dzuni hidden in the estate's underground compartments, right under the feet of their own parents. How he, Khoru, had to guard Sheleru to keep her from wagging her tongue freely and keep the Dzuni from finding out their missing children's whereabouts.

Suddenly, every piece of furniture leapt half a foot into the air, crashing back onto the floor with a tremendous thud. Khoru yelped as his body landed jarringly on the bed again, his previous thoughts completely forgotten. More rattling and clattering as knickknacks and photo frames shuddered and fell to the floor.

"Chocolate cake! Not again!" exclaimed Lhurone, bracing himself against Khoru's desk. Normally Khoru would find his father's "cursing" humorous, but not now. These minor quakes had shaken Lhasa intermittently since last night, sending the local geologists into a frenzy. Their seismologic equipment dotted Mhagenu, where the worst tremors had been felt. The neighbors didn't complain because they were too scared.

The mansion's upheaval passed as quickly as it had begun. Both Lhurone and Khoru remained frozen, panting. The jolting had shaken Khoru onto his back, and he stood up on his elbows, blinking slowly.

"Oh, I hope the earth isn't about to swallow us whole," sighed Lhurone, easing away from the desk. A high-pitched giggling burst from the bed. Surprised, Lhurone stared at his son, shaking with mirth. Khoru's fair cheeks turned red.

"It's not the earth," gasped Khoru, when he could finally catch a pause in between giggling bouts. "It's just a Dzuni spirit awakening."

"What?" stammered Lhurone. "Whose?" Khoru sat up on the bed, his laughter subsiding.

"It's one of the lost Dzunis. I can't say any more." Khoru could imagine that the poor Dzuni was having a difficult time adjusting to a personality fathered by Rhezu. "The guardian will bring things under control soon," reassured Khoru. "The earthquakes will stop then."

Halina picked her way through the dimly lit room. It was the first time she could remember not seeing every lamp in Seki's apartments switched on. She found it unnerving that he enjoyed light so much, considering how many people he had injured and murdered. In most of the manuscripts she read, murderers worked under the darkness's protection.

"Seki?" The tapestries and drapes muffled the echo, but the call still bounced back audibly. Halina stood perplexed next to the coffee table that bore the ever-present candy-dishes. "Anybody?" Sharlen had told her that Seki was always home after closing time. Her eyes now fully adjusted to the darkness, Halina squinted and identified the black shadows of the curio cabinets and the tapestries. Some of the ancient pictures had violent scenes, she knew. A week ago, Seki pointed out to her a particularly gory tapestry featuring a commando Zi Aldan squad who shocked the opposing army into immobility by beheading themselves with their swords. "One of my favorites," Seki had whispered reverently. "It displays the solidarity and courage of my country perfectly." Halina looked in the direction of that tapestry, and a fluttering sound close to her ear made her jump.

"Don't kill me!" she gasped before she could catch herself. Her purse tumbled to the floor.

"Strange. Most people don't react that way to butterflies," remarked an amused voice. The creature in question flapped its lavender-pink wings in front of Halina's face, and she saw that it was a butterfly. Exhaling slowly, she bent down to quickly gather the lipstick and loose change that sprayed from her purse. Once she stood up, she saw the delicate butterfly fly to her right. It alighted upon a petite finger belonging to a thin girl who appeared to be thirteen—she barely came to Halina's shoulder. "What are you doing bawling in the middle of Seki's room? He's out right now." The tiny girl walked away from the deep shadows with a confident step. After the girl switched on a lamp, Halina saw a whole flock of butterflies follow from behind a scarlet silk drape.

"I don't believe we've met," said Halina curiously, taking in the girl's light pink hair and thin silk robe. She had painted her fingernails and toenails purple. "My name is—"

"Sigeshomi Halina. Yes, I know," interrupted the girl. "You're the maneaters' lover." Large, liquid irises of a deep bluish-purple swept Halina from bottom to top, appraising her. She reminded Halina of the wispy fairies she'd seen on the covers of her mother's ragged fantasy books.

A deep blush colored Halina's cheeks. "Pardon, I'm just good friends with them."

"That's not what my butterflies say, but if you want to delude yourself, it's none of my business." Halina glared at the girl, who smirked. "You might as well get used to me, Halina. I know everything about everybody, so I'm the most hated of the Dzuni. By the way, I'm seventeen, even if I don't look it. I'm not a baby to cushion." Her fingers, long and thin in the light, popped a piece of candy into her mouth. She offered the dish to Halina, who shook her head. "I just use my butterflies to spy on people, I don't poison people." A butterfly landed on Halina's shoulder, and she resisted the urge to swat it away.

"No, it's not that," insisted Halina. "But I'm always eating sweets whenever I come here, and I don't feel like putting more sugar into my body. What is your name, by the way?"

"Seilieze."

"What?"

"Gogothan. Se-i-li-e-ze," repeated the frail girl, enunciating each syllable slowly. "I can forgive you if you botch the pronunciation horribly."

"Thanks, I'm sure," said Halina sarcastically.

"Of course," smiled Seilieze, eating more candy. The dish clinked as she set it back down. A butterfly flew lazily past Halina's ear. "Come with me," said Seilieze. "There's no chance you'll catch Seki tonight, so I'll entertain you. There's something I want to show you."

"Your cocoon?" muttered Halina. One of the butterflies zipped over to Halina and flapped its wings indignantly in her face. "Back off, boy," Seilieze ordered the butterfly, not batting an eye. Pulling Halina by the forearm, she trotted briskly back to the scarlet drapery, leading her unwilling guest down a winding staircase with precariously narrow steps and a rickety banister.

When they finally reached the bottom of the seemingly endless staircase, Halina sighed with relief. The scent of fresh botanicals drifted towards her, and she also realized that her blazer suddenly felt too hot. A stained glass door led to Seilieze's chambers, which consisted of a greenhouse. Tropical plants from the jungles of Mougoth proliferated everywhere, with the lavender-and-pink butterflies flying gracefully everywhere Halina looked. A footpath paved with gray stones led to a central living area, with two hammocks tied to palm trees and a carefully wrought iron table and chairs. Flowers of every color seemed to have exploded in the greenhouse; the butterflies did not lack food. The fluttering wings provided a soothing background noise, and Halina was surprised to find herself thinking that it was quite a pleasant place. Then she noticed the large wrought iron cage. Inside were butterflies the same color as Seilieze's eyes, perched on rods stretching from one side of the cage to another.

"Why do you keep these locked up?" asked Halina.

"These are the special butterflies," replied Seilieze, stressing the word "special." "They can't run loose. One of them is for you, as a matter of fact."

"Oh?" Halina was unsure how to respond to this information. "Special" could hold any meaning, including "dangerous."

"But you can't have him right now," added Seilieze matter-of-factly, pulling out one of the chairs, its legs grating loudly on the stone. "Here, have a seat." The iron chair proved surprisingly comfortable, accommodating the curves of Halina's back well. "I don't have any drinks or food. Seki brings me light meals at night. I eat hardly anything." Seilieze sat in the other chair, and a horde of butterflies settled onto the table. Halina had the distinct feeling that their doll-like black eyes were all staring at her, their bodies still except for an occasional twitch of the wings.

"You don't get many guests here, do you?" asked Halina dryly.

"My butterflies are curious, that's all. It's very exciting to see the maneaters' lover here."

"Would you please stop calling me their lover? I am not their lover!"

Seilieze looked at Halina with something almost like pity. "You're the best thing that's happened to them in a long time."

"It's none of your business!" snapped Halina.

"You don't know, do you." She gathered her wavy pink hair in one hand and threw it over her shoulder. "They all have to share the same person." Ignoring Halina's bewilderment, she continued, "But that's not what I wanted to talk to you about."

"If you don't stop prying into my personal life, I'll leave." The chair scratched the floor as Halina tried to stand up.

"You won't leave. You care too much about Sharlen, Dhuzel, and Setu," chuckled Seilieze.

"Is that a threat? You've got some nerve—" A furious fluttering silenced Halina. "Can those butterflies actually hurt me?"

"Not these," laughed Seilieze. "But I collect other species, and there are a few poisonous ones."

"_Butterflies_?" They seemed too fragile. What could they do, crawl all over her?

"You'd be surprised what you find in Gogothan jungles. They don't just have maneaters up there. Back off, dear butterflies," ordered Seilieze in a lilting tone, waving her hands gently. "I think our guest feels threatened by you." They flew away, scattering among the trees and creeping vines. "Now, Halina. Seki wants you to help integrate the lost Dzunis back into the real world, right?"

Settling back into her chair, Halina wearily nodded in assent.

"I'm sure that you've seen that some of us won't return to the Shoma estate so easily," said Seilieze smoothly. "I want to offer you help with Dhuzel. He's your most reluctant one."

"He's not 'mine,'" retorted Halina.

"Whatever you say. Do you feel like you understand Dhuzie?"

"Well…" Frowning, Halina pondered the question. "He's a sweet man, a little shy sometimes. He likes watching martial arts on TV, and gets very sleepy after a big meal. Um…"

"Yes?"

"I've noticed that he's more ashamed of the maneating than Sharlen or Setu."

Seilieze's eyes brightened. "And do you know why?"

"No."

"I thought so!" A gleeful look, and Seilieze swept out of her chair and rushed to the giant cage. "What are you doing?" demanded Halina as she watched Seilieze scrutinize the purple butterflies.

"I'm going to give you a little present," said Seilieze slowly. "Just be sure to kill him when you've seen enough. By the way, you can just feed him on regular leaves. They're not picky eaters. No, you aren't, are you, my lovelies?" She picked up a mini cage from the floor, and flipped open its door. In one deft movement, Seilieze had transferred a butterfly from the large cage to the small one. "Here you are, Halina. A gift from the butterflies." The wings gleamed sky-blue as they reflected the light.

"It's lovely," said Halina, "but how will it help me with Dhuzel?"

"You'll see."


	12. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I don't own FB, TB, PSOH, or anything else you recognize.

**Chapter 11**—_Sunday_

The pace at headquarters had been unbearably fast the last few days. Today, however, absolutely nothing was happening, so Chief gave Rhezu and Tatara the day off. "We'll radio if we need you. Go enjoy yourselves. That's an order!" Naturally, Tatara insisted on staying at the station, claiming he needed to straighten out some records.

"Boy," called Chief when Rhezu was about to walk out the front door. "Is something going on with Shoma?" Both men understood perfectly well that Tatara was not the sort to leave behind a disordered record in the first place.

"Yeah, but he won't talk to me," answered Rhezu vaguely.

"Does he ever relax or have fun?"

"Not that I've seen, Chief."

"I worry about him. It isn't good, keeping everything inside. Eats at a cop from inside out—I've seen it happen time and time again." Chief shook his head sagely, replaying in his memory the breakdowns he'd seen during his long career. "Keep an eye on him, Rhezu, and take care of yourself, too. Go find a pretty girl to flirt with."

The young detective chuckled weakly, and scowled once he had safely gone down the front steps. He could count on one hand the number of women who'd agreed to date him. Besides, today was Sunday, not exactly an ideal dating day. Most Lhasans rested on Sunday, steeling themselves for the coming work week.

And Sunday was his appointment day with Lekhuma Seki. Pulling into the busy traffic of Sonu Street, Rhezu heaved a sigh as he thought of the upcoming visit. He turned right towards Mhagenu at the first traffic light, and decided to catch up with his father before going to Seki's shop.

The flame trees lining the enormous front driveway of the Shoma estate gleamed. The sun shining through the petals gave the shadows a reddish cast. The blossoms swayed gently as Rhezu drove by, preoccupied with tumultuous thoughts. Rhezu stopped the car when it reached the second gate that sealed the main mansion from its outer periphery. Within this gate were all the Dzuni houses, traditionally reserved for Dzunis and their close family members, and of course, the immensely old mansion itself. Khezuke still lived in the Boar's House, and Rhezu turned left towards his home after passing through the gate.

Khezuke had just stepped outside to pick up the mail when he saw his son's beat-up squad car navigating the stone driveway. "Rhezu! How are you?" He slapped Rhezu's back.

"Good," grunted Rhezu. "Chief let us take the day off."

"You've been coming over Sundays a lot," observed Khezuke. "I'm glad to see you, and I'm sure it'll cheer up Kedi too. He's got a cold." Gripping the gold doorknob, Khezuke pulled open the elegantly carved door. In Rhezu's opinion, the ferocious-looking wooden boar's paint needed some refreshing. He could see grayish flakes on the doorstep.

"I must remember to call the main house about that panel," murmured Khezuke, as if in response to Rhezu's thoughts. "Well, son, sit down and I'll tell Kedi you're here." The cushy old sofa wheezed as Rhezu dropped into it. Quick, light footsteps on the stairs told him that Kedi was on his way.

"I can't breathe through my nose," whined Kedi nasally, his eyes glazed and nose a blotchy red. A well-used patchwork teddy bear dangled from one hand.

"It'll get better soon." Rhezu mussed Kedi's hair and smiled encouragingly at him.

"Are we going out today, Rhezu?" Kedi had done an admirable job of keeping their outings a secret from their father.

"No, kid, I think you need some rest. Sorry," said Rhezu. Khezuke nodded in agreement.

"Aw!" Kedi's protest was very short-lived however; he returned upstairs to his room within a minute, the teddy bear bumping against each step. After settling his ill son back into bed, Khezuke returned downstairs.

"Drink, Rhezu?"

"No thanks, Dad."

"What happened between you and Kedi?" asked Khezuke as he settled his solid bulk into an armchair across from Rhezu.

"Hm?" Rhezu assumed a nonchalant look, but his muscles tensed nonetheless. This was going into dangerous territory.

"You and Kedi have suddenly become much more comfortable around each other. Not that I'm complaining." Khezuke grinned, the faded scars crisscrossing his face becoming less visible. No one had ever figured out why the scars appeared when they did, when Khezuke had just joined the Shoma estate at age sixteen. "Kedi also seems much happier than before. He doesn't cry as easily now; even his teacher remarked on it to me last week. What's your secret?"

"Hmm…" Rhezu mused for a moment.

"Of course, if it's a brother-brother thing, you don't have to tell me."

"I made my peace with Mother," Rhezu said abruptly. It was still hard for him to believe that the person he saw in the dream wasn't really his mother, but a Dzuni. In any case, his emotions and relief had been genuine. "It's a long story."

"Oh." Khezuke's face tightened momentarily, and he finally said, "I'm glad to hear that, actually." His eyebrows scrunched. "Although you don't seem much calmer than before. Have you been stressed out at work?"

"Kind of. My partner's pretty anal-retentive. He's from Zi Alda."

"Well, I'm not sure being Zi Aldan has anything to do with it," chuckled Khezuke. "Have you heard, by the way? Hatsuharu's started to hear rumors about atrocities over there. Maybe your partner knows something about those."

"Atrocities?"

"No details yet. But I suspect we'll hear more soon. Apparently there are refugees hiding in Hoth and Gogotha who've started asking for help."

"I'll ask." Though it's completely futile, Rhezu added silently to himself. "Any more news?"

"You remember the earthquakes that have been scaring everybody lately?" Of course Rhezu did. The police had been scrambling to cordon off fallen power lines, burst water mains, and to calm the citizenry in general. Rhezu was convinced that the owner of the mystery egg was causing the earthquakes, but Tatara successfully kept him from going to Seki.

"Lhurone talked to Khoru last night. You remember Khoru, don't you?" continued Khezuke. "They were talking about something or other, and then an earthquake hit. Afterwards Khoru told Lhurone that the earthquakes were the result of a Dzuni spirit awakening."

Rhezu stared at his father, alarmed. Wasn't Khoru under orders to stay quiet? "Did he say anything else?"

"Khoru only said that 'the guardian' would take care of it, and that he couldn't reveal any more about the lost Dzuni. The earthquakes do seem to have stopped. Good thing, too, because they scared Kedi badly. To be honest, they scared me, too. But now this lost Dzuni is all we can talk about." Khezuke referred to his fellow Dzunis, the older generation. "It's the first glimmer of them that we've have had in a long time." The hopeful tone gave Rhezu a pang of guilt.

"Did Haku say anything?"

"No." The answer didn't surprise Rhezu; Haku would've been smart enough to speak with Khoru privately.

"Rhezu? What's wrong?" Khezuke noticed the deep reverie, and the startled look. "Do you know something about the lost Dzuni?" he asked softly. Rhezu hesitated for too long, which gave away the answer. "Why haven't you told us?"

Seki is clearly weak, reasoned Rhezu. And Khoru did mention the lost Dzuni, but Kedi is still within Seki's power to harm. "I'm not allowed to say anything."

"Is it the guardian?" pressed Khezuke, leaning forward urgently in his chair. "Are they in danger from the guardian?"

"Not the Dzuni!" hissed Rhezu. "I am! And Khoru, too! We're not supposed to talk!" He forbore mentioning Kedi's involvement, not wanting to get into a war with his father.

"But if this guardian is dangerous, surely we can—"

"No!" This silenced Khezuke. For a moment, Rhezu could hardly believe he was protecting Seki. "It's too complicated. Please," he begged, "don't say anything."

Meanwhile, inside the main house, Haku sat in his studio with a pounding headache just forming. An agitated Sheleru called him ten minutes ago. It had already been extremely difficult to pretend that he didn't know anything when all of his relatives and closest friends couldn't stop talking about Khoru's revelation. Sheleru's insistence that Khoru shouldn't have talked added to his considerable unease. "Seki will punish him," she'd moaned, and Haku found himself in the ridiculous position of trying to comfort her about something he could do nothing about.

"Is this Sakurazukamori like Asheno?" asked Haku, attempting to gain a sense of the mystery man's mindset. Like every other person in on the Dzuni secret, Sheleru had heard the horror stories about Asheno.

"Oh no!" she gasped reflexively. "He would not lose his head like that! He does everything for a good reason, not because of some random whim. He won't try to kill or hurt Khoru." Sheleru's inability to elaborate on why she thought Seki wouldn't hurt Khoru didn't ease Haku's concerns. "But he's never hurt any of us," she insisted repeatedly.

"Then why are you so worried that he'll punish Khoru?"

"No, really, he won't hurt Khoru. He has a different way of teaching us lessons, that's all. Please make sure you don't tell the other Dzunis about your conversations with me and Halina."

"What 'different way'?"

"Oh, he just talks to us. Like, he tells us stories like fables. But they can get boring sometimes."

Rubbing his throbbing temples, Haku started giggling. Telling fables certainly sounded innocuous, and much tamer than Asheno's violent methods. "Of course," Haku said to himself, "Sheleru is very trusting." And she could easily miss signs of the Sakurazukamori's more illicit activities. Sobering, he stared at an empty canvas before him, willing it to give him a sign. After half an hour passed without any result, Haku decided to wait. His gut told him that interfering seemed more dangerous than waiting at the moment.

After ending the visit to his father on a tense note, Rhezu headed to Dze-I. An empty parking spot stood in front of the teashop, as if it had been prepared to meet him. The shop's lights were off, and Rhezu could discern no signs of human inhabitation. Slamming the car door shut, he strode up to the storefront, and peered into the darkness beyond the displays. "Hi!"

"Oh my gods!" yelled Rhezu, clutching his chest. "Shit, Zian!" The fuchsia head peeked around the doorframe, and she laughed gaily.

"Sorry, Rhezu. Come on in," said Zian. "Seki had to go out, and he wanted me to let you in. Did Kedi tag along?" She looked around for the child.

"He's got a cold today," mumbled Rhezu, stifling an oath after nearly tripping over an unseen object in the dark. Zian led him through the now-familiar hidden connector to Seki's apartments.

"Tell him we said hello and to get well soon, all right?"

"Yeah, sure." His eyes finally adjusted to the darkness, and he guessed that he was now in the open space of Seki's living room. "Do you have any idea when Seki will return?"

The girl shrugged, pigtails bobbing. "He didn't say. But he does want to talk to you, so I don't think it'll be long. In the meanwhile, there's someone who wants to meet you." Zian grinned mischievously. "You have a jacket with you?"

"Of course not." The weather was on par for a typical Lhasa spring—cool in the early morning and at night, but pleasantly warm during the day. The temperatures rose by a few degrees steadily week by week. Zian scrunched her lips, and then shrugged philosophically. "Oh, well, you can ask for a blanket," she concluded cheerfully. "Just go down that staircase there." She pointed to a white door by a built-in bookcase. The door didn't quite fit in its frame, and a large gap showed between the door and floor. "It's a pretty long staircase—just watch your step because it's kind of dark." With that, Zian bounded away. "See you later!"

"Hey!" called Rhezu futilely. "Dammit." He stared at the white door, wondering which crazy Dzuni lurked behind it. Sighing, he decided that he might as well see. "Kind of dark," as Zian put it, proved to be an understatement. Rhezu had to feel his way down, by hugging the banister and poking his feet forward inch by inch. The steps seemed to have been constructed for a person half his size, with tiny feet. The stairs also creaked loudly in protest. Once, when a slanted step made him stumble, Rhezu instinctively braced himself against the wall and felt slimy rock. "Gods! I hope she didn't send me into a cave." He had to concentrate hard to rein in his imagination. During his school years, he'd heard one too many urban myths and monster tales.

Soon his shivering supplanted his growing fear of the interminable staircase. He wore only a thin long-sleeved shirt and a faded pair of jeans, and as he descended, the temperature sank quickly. Finally, when he could feel that the staircase had ended, he rubbed his arms briskly. It was as cold as a winter day.

"Is someone there? Seki?" The mellifluous voice echoed off the rocky walls.

Rhezu squeezed a "N-n-no" through his chattering teeth. "Z-zian s-s-s-sent me. I'm A-ashu Rhezanu."

"Ooh!" A dungeon-like door, previously hidden by the darkness, clanged open with a jarring sound that jolted Rhezu back against the staircase. He was surprised not to see a medieval padlock falling to the floor; the door consisted of a weathered wooden panel half a foot thick, and with iron strips crossing it. "Delightful! I'm glad Zian remembered." A surreal whitish-gray light silhouetted a sylphlike figure in the doorway, and blotted out her features. The woman glided to Rhezu, and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Perhaps that'll help warm you up, hmm?" The woman had snow-white skin and hair that possessed bluish tinges. Her thin lips hovered dangerously close to Rhezu's, and he couldn't help noticing the full chest pressed tightly against his own.

"Whoa! I don't need that kind of warming up!" he exclaimed, pushing her off firmly. The hug had been effective, though—he stopped shivering and willed his scarlet blush to disappear. The woman smiled coyly. "Would you like to come in, or would you rather brave the big, dark, scary stairs again? I understand that some of the steps are rotting through." Rhezu looked at the stairs, and back at her again.

"That's a good boy," she drawled. "I'll give you a blanket inside. Seki also finds it too cold, so I keep plenty for him. I can make hot chocolate as well." Her slender fingers took him by the elbow, and led him into the whiteness.

Ice coated everything inside—the walls, the floor, the ceiling, and even some of the tables were carved out of the ice itself. The cushions and lush throws scattered generously throughout served as a counterpoint to the glittering crystal. They also helped dampen the ice's reflective quality; otherwise, the brightness would've crippled Rhezu. His host immediately hustled Rhezu into an armchair and handed him a thick blanket made from rare white _murin_ fur from the Ashomi Waste, the desolate plains of southern Hoth. Even Rhezu, who normally didn't think about such things, had to touch the fur to feel its wondrous silkiness for himself.

"I had to beg Seki for that one," said the sylph, already mixing a fresh cup of hot chocolate. "He loathes southern Hoth, because that's where the Ghumanis hold sway." The Ghumani family was the Shoma family's traditional archrival. "It's a tragedy—I'd much rather be in southern Hoth. The climate is much better for me there."

"Do you need to keep the temps at such freakin' cold levels?"

"Yes. If it reaches the 60s, I become dreadfully ill." Rhezu huddled deeper into the _murin_ fur. "I'll raise it a little so you don't catch a fatal cold." Within a few minutes, Rhezu was able to keep his head out of the fur, then his hands and legs. He gulped the scalding cocoa gratefully. The woman, sitting on the edge of a chaise, reminded Rhezu of old stories he'd heard as a child—the ice queen who roamed over the Ashomi Waste on wind gusts and who dwelled in a lavish palace in the Ghobrin Ice's heart. For the first time, he noticed that she kept her eyelids closed all the time. It created a queer illusion of an eyeless face. Nevertheless, he found himself thinking how familiar her face seemed, and scrambled to pinpoint why. At least it kept his eyes from straying to her revealing neckline.

"Does my chest satisfy you?" she finally asked after a moment of silence.

Finishing the chocolate hurriedly, Rhezu blushed again and mumbled, "Yeah, it's fine."

"You get rejected by women a lot, don't you? You are rather obvious; you're still a virgin, aren't you?"

Rhezu sputtered, sending some of the cocoa down the wrong way. He hacked loudly. "Maybe I'm a little rough around the edges, but do you suppose you could tell me your name first?" he asked desultorily.

"I don't suppose Tara has mentioned me to you?"

"Who?"

"My older brother, who's your partner."

Rhezu gaped at her disbelievingly. "He lets you call him 'Tara'?"

"Because he loves his younger sister, even if he yells at me a lot. I wouldn't advise you to use 'Tara.' He'd surely kill you, and I know you don't want to die a virgin."

"Will you stop it with the virgin thing?" snapped Rhezu belligerently. "Stop messing with my mind. I'm not going to let you seduce me just because I'm the first non-Dzuni man to walk through your door." The woman raised an eyebrow, and pouted slightly.

"Are you in love with Tara?" she asked abruptly.

"Wha—why does everybody think we're gay? No, I'm straight. Completely

straight." Rhezu snorted exasperatedly. The woman's mood lightened, and she appeared almost relieved. Suddenly feeling more hesitant, Rhezu quickly refocused on draining his hot chocolate. At last, a name bubbled to the surface in Rhezu's mind. "Beri. You're Beri, aren't you?" Tatara had talked about her once, a while ago.

"Shoma Ghoberen. But I won't kill you if you call me 'Beri,'" she added sweetly.

"I appreciate that."

"How is Tara doing? He hasn't visited me in a long time. Usually he visits me every few days," she explained, "to make sure I'm behaving my naughty self."

"He's okay physically, but he's acting fucking weird." Rhezu felt no qualms about cursing in front of someone who kept prodding him about his virginity.

"That's what I hear," sighed Ghoberen. "Can you tell me what happened? I heard about the banquet, but it doesn't sound like the whole story to me."

Rhezu recounted the lunch at the Gogothan restaurant with Seki, Tatara, and Halina. "What was all that about Tatara being a slave?"

"A slave?" The smooth façade dropped from Ghoberen's face, and her brows folded in consternation. "First I've heard of that. Tara's never talked to you about his past, has he?"

"What do you think?"

She nodded resignedly. "Of course not. I don't know anything about his life in Zi Alda."

"I knew it—he's not from Lhasa."

"No, he was born and raised in a small Zi Aldan town. Seki brought him to Lhasa when he was thirteen. The first time I met him, he had scraggly hair, and he couldn't speak Hothan to save his life." Ghoberen's lips curved in a rueful smile. "I immediately drove him nuts, despite our language barrier. He's not physically affectionate, so he squirms whenever I hug him. He's a classic Zi Aldan—neat, loyal, and stoic to a fault."

"Yeah, he freaked out when he saw my desk and car," admitted Rhezu, chuckling.

"He rearranged my pillows the first time he saw my room. I paid him back by throwing them at him."

When Ghoberen's laughter waned, Rhezu pressed, "But you don't know anything about his life in Zi Alda?"

"No," she exhaled. "I have my theories about his relationship to Seki, though. It would be like a Zi Aldan to have a life debt to someone who saved you from death." Getting a blank stare from Rhezu, Ghoberen went on. "This is how life debts work. If someone rescues you from death, you become that person's servants in return, and you remain loyal forever. In theory, anyway."

"But that's an oppressive relationship!" protested Rhezu. Such a tradition was unheard of in Hoth.

"I don't know for sure that's how Tara sees Seki," added Ghoberen hurriedly. "It could explain why Tara still sticks by Seki even while some of us have started breaking away from him."

"You should be leaving Seki! All of you! What good is there about him?"

"Oh, you only see Seki the murderer," said Ghoberen. "Sharlen hates Seki more than any other Dzuni here, as far as I know, and even he's hesitant to actually harm the man who's taken care of him for his entire life. You'll notice that Sharlen talks a lot, but does little."

"Seki is dangerous," insisted Rhezu. "He kills people for no good reason!"

"That's not true, not really," argued Ghoberen, sitting up straighter. She was almost pleading now. "He may kill people for the wrong reasons, but he doesn't kill them randomly." She paused, gathering her thoughts. "I don't know enough to explain his character fully; I don't have the same sort of power as the Dzuni rabbit, or Lafidzi, for that matter. But I do think that Seki is trapped by the old Dzuni curse, too."

"How?"

"None of us really understand how we fit into today's world with our unusual powers and looks. What role do we play? I'm sure that Seki struggles with the same issues."

"My impression is that Seki feels pretty damn sure of himself," said Rhezu. "Especially since killing children and anybody else who crosses him doesn't make him sweat at all."

"I've never said he was a good person," pointed out Ghoberen dryly. "I, for one,

resent his keeping me locked in here. A lot of the Dzuni upstairs have been sneaking out behind his back for a long time." She stood up and swept over to Rhezu's chair. Sitting on the wide armrest, she slipped a white arm around his shoulders. "Our dear Seki lives in a dream world that's falling apart. He's a very tragic man."


	13. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I don't own FB, TB, PSOH, or anything else you recognize.

**Chapter 12**—_Monday Morning_

Halina woke up, breathing hard through her matted hair. She stared at the ceiling, disoriented, trying to recall what day it was. "Monday," she muttered. "I have a meeting in two hours." When she tried to move her legs, her twisted blankets held them fast, and she had to reach over and undo the sheets. Finally free of her bed, she stumbled over some manuscripts she had carelessly left on the floor in a hurry.

Rushing into the bathroom, she threw off her pajamas and turned the shower on. Even the shower's cleansing waters couldn't wipe away her dream easily. She looked down at her body to remind herself that she was a woman, not a little boy.

Last night, she dreamt that she was in Iskenaatsun, the provincial capital of Tsaavo, which some Hothans called West Gogotha. In the past, the city had served as a resting point for travelers going through the dangerous mountain isthmus that connected Hoth and Gogotha. Iskenaatsun still operated as a hub for travelers from the two countries, but had lately made a point of being proud of its tough Tsaavan heritage.

In the dream, Halina stood on a pier jutting out into the Bay of Haviz, the lifeblood of Iskenaatsun's maritime-based economy. Once she saw all the unfamiliar Gogothan signs, she realized where she was. "Where did I hear about this city?" she wondered. "Oh, Seki talked about the beer here." She grinned to herself. The street running alongside the bay bustled with pedestrians already. Directly in front of her was a seafood restaurant, a red seagull painted on its sign. The building sat squat on the street, as though it had decided to rest for a few minutes. Its stone exterior was painted a cream color, and potted posies graced the upper windowsills. The restaurant's owner and his family probably lived on the second floor.

The dream magically transported Halina into the family's living quarters. She found herself in the snug but comfortable kitchen. A thin-lipped, olive-skinned woman, wearing a light print dress and a pink handkerchief wrapped around her head, boiled vegetables on the stove. It was the height of summer at the moment, and the ceiling fan spun lazily. The heat leaned on Halina's invisible form like an exhausted elephant.

The woman barked something in the Tsaavan dialect, a harsh-sounding tongue to Halina, and running footsteps responded. A young girl, around ten or so, burst through the door talking happily. Halina instantly recognized the small boy following the girl as Dhuzel—the unusual tawny hair grew in a thick mop. He was probably two years younger than the girl, who appeared to be his sister, and wore a striped green t-shirt and blue shorts. Halina could hardly believe how carefree Dhuzel appeared. His dark tan also blended in better among Tsaavans than Hothans. She'd spent enough time with him to notice how often strangers stared at him on Lhasa's streets.

She wished she could understand what the kids and mother were saying, though. Suddenly her mind seemed to click, and their words became intelligible to her. The mother also loomed over her now, nagging her. "Aatsin, wash your hands before dinner, now." Halina realized that the mother was speaking right to her, and realized that she must be in Dhuzel's body. She looked down and saw the green-striped shirt. "Hurry up so we can eat!" said the girl.

"He was called Aatsin?" thought Halina. "I don't like that name." Dutifully washing her hands, she joined the mother and girl at the tiny circular table set in the center of the kitchen. A burly man, presumably the patriarch, entered the room. As he crashed heavily into his chair, an alarm screamed shrilly into Halina's ear, and the dream went no further.

As she gulped down a yogurt drink, Halina stuffed a few leaves through the bars in the butterfly's cage. Seilieze was right—they really were low maintenance. But unless she hurried, she would be late for her meeting. The butterfly slowly flexed its wings as it watched its owner slam the door shut on her way out.

A draining day passed by at an excruciatingly slow pace for Halina. All the time she spent with Seki and the maneaters took a huge toll on her schedule. She'd fallen behind on two long manuscripts, and there seemed to be one meeting after the next for the coming three days. Lhasa's businesslike air lacked the artistic charm that Hareth possessed, and even hilly Tavern Row with its weekend puddles of vomit acquired a golden tint in Halina's memory. In Hareth, she hadn't been trying to simultaneously work while preparing to reunite lost Dzunis with their parents.

"If it even gets that far," Halina mumbled to herself, drinking from a microwaveable soup bottle at midnight. Things were never easy in the Shoma family. Sharlen was eager enough to rejoin the family, but Dhuzel dragged his feet, and apparently the fact that he had had parents never occurred to Setu before. "Oh, I can't think about this now," groaned Halina. She sank gratefully onto her bed, clothes and all. Turning to her right side, she watched a pair of intricate wings gleam cerulean, indigo, and even a little teal in the lamplight. She'd decided to move the butterfly to her nightstand, and she felt glad for it now. As she watched the wings waving, her tense muscles slowly relaxed, and her eyelids drooped until she sank into a bottomless sleep.

Again, her dreams took her into the past, and the elephant heat blasted her relentlessly as she reassumed the young Aatsin's form. She sat at the kitchen table with the family, but it was a different dinner from the one she witnessed the night before. Instead of the pink headband, the mother's hair crowned her head in complicated braids. Both she and the little girl, Zinka, wore dresses adorned with brightly colored interweaving squares. The father donned plain cotton pants and a sweat-stained shirt.

The dishes on the table stood empty, and everybody remained still in their chairs, digesting the fare. Halina heard the father say, "Did you find out about the new maneater attack at the meeting, Nuba?"

"You should have come, Daddy!" piped up Zinka. "A man stood up and talked about how fourteen people have been found killed by maneaters! It happened out in the western plains, near Mowukoba, two weeks ago. They've started building fences around the farms, and there are hunting groups…"

"Oh, nonsense," huffed Nuba, rolling her eyes. "If you ask me, this is just another wild story spread by the village leaders to protect their power. Tsowe, haven't you noticed that the latest maneater stories always appeared right before political scandals? Everybody knows how corrupt the rulers of the western plains are! They overtax the farmers, they hoard the surplus food for themselves while everyone else starves…" Nuba snorted, disgusted. "If you ask me, they're the real maneaters! They make our mayor look like the height of virtue by comparison. The poor animals should be left alone. If there are such things as maneating lions, I'd hope they'd have the brains to go after the village leaders. Their fat alone would keep the lions in good supply during the dry season, I'm sure."

"You don't think maneaters are real?" asked Zinka, eyes wide.

Halina listened keenly, but her stomach tightened hungrily. Some duck meat remained on one of the platters, and Halina reached eagerly for the serving fork.

"No, Aatsin," admonished Nuba. "You've had too much to eat already. In this heat you'll make yourself ill." Halina sat back obediently, even as she groaned inwardly. The other three resumed their conversation about the maneater attacks. Looking at the stocky father, Halina wondered idly what human flesh tasted like. Someone once said humans tasted like pork. The craving for meat grew into an obstinate ache.

Instinctively, Halina recoiled. No, it was the conversation, it was making her think too many morbid thoughts. She had not seriously considered taking a bite out of the father's generous potbelly. It was just the conversation, she told herself, just the conversation.

The next night, Halina watched the static crackling on her television screen, not caring that her service wasn't working. Two of the authors she was supposed to meet with today had never shown up, and the wasted time frustrated her. The dainty butterfly cage perched on a corner of her coffee table, and the butterfly's grace helped calm her down.

Nevertheless, she couldn't stop thinking about the craving for human flesh she'd felt in the dream last night. Did she think that, or were those Dhuzel's thoughts? Her head throbbed from trying to answer that question, and she focused blankly on the static again. A loud chiming made her jerk wildly. "Who is it?" she called irritatedly, still blinking from the surprise.

"It's me, Halina." She recognized Setu's voice. "I tried a new candy recipe today, and I thought you might like to try it."

"My goodness, you scared me," breathed Halina, opening the door. Setu, his hair tied back in a taut ponytail, walked in with a large brown paper bag in his arms. An enticing sweet smell radiated from it.

"I'm sorry," said Setu. "I didn't mean to scare you, and I know you're busy." He looked around the rumpled room. "Is that a new pet?"

"Oh, the butterfly? Yeah. It's the only thing that helps calm me down these days. Pretty, isn't it?"

"Beautiful," agreed Setu, setting the bag down on the kitchenette's counter. "Are you all right? Your nerves seem frazzled." After riffling through the cabinets quickly, he found two saucers and placed handfuls of chocolate-covered candies on each.

"Oh, dark chocolate!" exclaimed Halina. "My favorite!" Setu watched, concerned, as the chocolates vanished swiftly into Halina's mouth. "This is fantastic, Setu! Did you use fresh fruit preserves for the fillings?"

"Of course I only used fresh ingredients," responded Setu, smiling at the praise. "But I must ask—did you even eat a proper dinner?"

"No, I forbid you to do any cooking! Besides, I'd die of embarrassment if you looked in my refrigerator," insisted Halina when Setu tried to protest.

"Halina—"

"No, really, Setu, it's fine." She yawned. "As you see, I'm falling asleep anyway."

"Have you been sleeping enough?"

Laughing, Halina patted his shoulder. "You sound like a mother hen, but you're sweet. Thank you for the candy."

"I'll leave the rest here so you can have it later," Setu finally said, noting the dark shadows under her eyes.

"Good night, and say hello to Sharlen and Dhuzie for me."

"I will." With that, Setu shut the door gently behind him, and took the elevator down to the ground floor. Something niggled at the back of his mind, a warning sign that he'd seen but missed in the apartment. He frowned deeply as he trotted briskly out into the Lhasa night. No one else would be out in the early morning hours, except for underworld figures. However, the wee hours had always been the golden hours for the maneaters, and they could protect themselves quite well.

"Why, hello, Setu," said Sharlen when the black-robed figure entered their hotel room. Setu tripped on his roll-away cot's wheel, cursed, then righted himself. "Did she not like the candy?"

"No, she liked it. Thanks for the tip about the dark chocolate, Sharlen." Setu flipped his outer robe off his shoulders, and hung it on a wall peg. "I'll keep that recipe."

"Is she all right?" Dhuzel emerged from the shower, a towel wrapped firmly around his waist and rubbing his dripping hair with another.

"I don't think so," said Setu, settling into a bland hotel armchair. "She looks terrible. No sleep, no food—my chocolate was probably the first thing she'd eaten today."

"Halina did tell me she was going through a busy stage—as a matter of fact, I have a meeting with her tomorrow," remarked Sharlen. "Which reminds me, I need to put my notes together tonight. I don't want her to scold me again," he added with a lascivious wink. Dhuzel scoffed.

"I suppose we should let her alone for a while?" asked Dhuzel. "Seems like she's got enough without dealing with us."

"No, I want to bring her some more food tomorrow," said Setu.

Sharlen chuckled richly, causing Setu to blush. "He's smitten. How adorable. No other news from our little wife?" The quip earned Sharlen a towel snap to the head from Dhuzel.

Setu began to shake his head "no," but remembered something. "She's got a pet butterfly now. Says it's the only thing that helps her unwind."

"A butterfly?" repeated Dhuzel in a hushed voice. He had frozen. "Are you sure?"

Time lost all meaning for Halina during that night. The days speeded by in the little apartment above the restaurant in Iskenaatsun. Each day, Halina, inside the body and mind of little Aatsin, felt the craving growing stronger despite all her efforts to will it away. She had lost track of the boundary between her own thoughts and those of Aatsin's. The guilt returned more strongly each time she looked at a human and considered which body part would be the easiest to consume and most nutritious.

Every Tsaavan knows that carnivorous animals prefer the guts of any being that they kill. The guts provided the most protein, and no obtrusive rib cages blocked the way. Naturally, Aatsin went for the same spot when he finally caved in to the urges. At sunset on the final day, Nuba walked into her kitchen to find Aatsin kneeled over Zinka, who lay with a crushed windpipe and open, unmoving eyes.

A sharp stinging sensation knocked Halina back to her senses, and light flooded her vision. Two strange men hovered above her face, and she screamed hysterically.

"Halina! Calm down!" barked Sharlen, slapping her once more. The pain brought her back to her senses, and she recognized Sharlen and Setu. Seeing the image of the gaping wound in Zinka's belly in her mind again, Halina started sobbing. Sharlen pulled her into a tight hug. "You're not dreaming anymore, Halina. You're all right." The smell of hekasho fabric warmed by body heat soothed her, and she gradually settled into soft whimpers. Finally, she quieted down altogether.

"Drink this." Setu shoved a steaming cup of hot chocolate into her hands, once Sharlen had released her.

"A dream," muttered Halina. "But it was so real." She let the chocolate wash over her tongue, savoring the creamy and bitter aftertaste.

"What about?" asked Setu. Both men were still watching her for any further sign of hysterics, and Sharlen looked unusually serious.

"I dreamed that I was Dhuzel, when he was a child in Tsaavo," she began slowly. "And then he started getting these…cravings…for human flesh."

"And you watched him eat someone?" prompted Sharlen gently.

"His own sister…I can still hear the mother screaming." Halina shuddered and drank more hot chocolate.

"You won't be having these dreams anymore. The butterfly is dead."

Indignant, Halina cried, "What did the butterfly have to do with them?" She'd begun to grow fond of its beauty, and its smashed body next to the open cage seemed a tragic sight. A wing stuck up into the air, snapped in half.

Sharlen raised an eyebrow ruefully. "Seilieze gave it to you, didn't she? Halina, the butterfly caused your dreams." Belatedly, Halina remembered Seilieze's warning to kill it when the time came. "Have you ever heard the old fairy tale that butterflies are reincarnations of dead people? That's what Seilieze's 'special' butterflies are—reincarnations. In this case, the butterfly was the reincarnation of Dhuzel the little boy—a Dhuzel that died when he killed his little sister."

"Wuh…what I saw really happened?" stammered Halina.

"Yes. Since then he's always refused to eat any part of a woman or child."

"Oh, I see." She remembered the mocking comment Sharlen had made when she first met them in Hareth. "You tease him about it, Sharlen," said Halina, her eyes narrowing. "That's cruel."

Setu shrugged. "Well, a maneater is a maneater. No matter what Dhuzel says, he still relies on human flesh in the end."

Halina considered the two men sitting near her. She knew that Setu didn't discriminate, and that Sharlen was also less discriminatory than Dhuzel. After a month with Seki, however, Halina now understood that he had raised Sharlen according to a classic Tsaavan view—that everybody is prey, vulnerable to predators. "Why did Seki leave Dhuzel in Iskenaatsun? Why didn't he raise him and Setu along with you, Sharlen?"

"He wanted to make Dhuzel think that he couldn't live among humans," replied Sharlen. "That was before Seki suddenly decided to return us to the Shoma family."

"Wait! Where's Dhuzel?" Setu's spine snapped into perfect posture, as he scanned the room. "Dhuzel? Dhuzel!" Sharlen also looked around, growing more alarmed. When no Dhuzel appeared, Sharlen swore bitterly in Zi Aldan and flew off the bed.

"Come on, Setu!" he ordered. "Halina, stay here and take care of yourself. Damn it, I hope we're not too late." Sharlen roughly hauled Setu off the bed, and still pulling him by the arm, sprinted out the door. They left a shellshocked woman wondering what had suddenly possessed them.

When he saw her body lying on the bluish stones, Sharlen thought for a moment that he and Setu had arrived too late to save Seilieze. Then he heard her gasp softly, and she twitched.

"Seilieze?" He knelt by her, and she coughed in response. A croaking sound passed from her lips.

"Her throat," whispered Setu, pointing to the red marks that attested to near strangulation. The pink and lavender butterflies, which had been flapping frantically around, anxious for their beloved lady's welfare, now began landing on the men's heads and shoulders. Seilieze kept gasping, taking in lungfuls of precious air.

"He tried to kill me," Seilieze whispered harshly, after gulping several times. The tears ran freely, spotting the stone like gentle raindrops. Sharlen lifted her and placed her inside a hammock. She cried harder, rubbing her eyes with her fists. Setu hesitated—the sobbing woman was practically a stranger to him, and why Dhuzel should have attacked her made no sense.

"If he hates me so much," ranted Seilieze, "why didn't he just finish the job? Then we'd both be better off! I try to help him, and this is how he thanks me!" She wailed, turning away from the men. Sharlen rolled his eyes wearily at Setu, and nudged him towards the tea table.

"Why—" Setu's question withered at a vehement shake of Sharlen's head. They sat in silence for the next five minutes as Seilieze's crying slowed to an occasional whimper.

"Sei." Sharlen gripped her firmly around the shoulders. "Sei, listen to me now. Do you know where Dhuzel is now?" No response. "Seilieze!"

"I don't know, I don't know. He had his hands around my neck, and I was about to pass out when he just let go and left." She sat up carefully, like an old woman with brittle bones. She spoke quietly, "I was trying to help him, Sharlen. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes, Seilieze, I know." He squeezed her shoulders. "But we need to go find Dhuzel now. Take care of yourself." She nodded mutely. The tears had given her eyes an ethereal gleam.

"What was that all about?" asked Setu as soon as they'd left the tea shop, well out of any eavesdropping Dzuni's hearing. Of course, with everyone packed into the same building, they would all know what had transpired by the day's end.

"Dhuzel is angry with Seilieze for revealing his most painful memories to Halina," said Sharlen, sniffing the air.

"I could've figured that out myself," harrumphed Setu. Sharlen ignored the comment, and kept sniffing.

"There! I thought he might go that way," declared Sharlen triumphantly, when he picked up Dhuzel's scent heading towards Ziba Park. He knew that the lion enjoyed the flame tree grove when the flowers bloomed. They acted as a balm to Dhuzel, but they only irritated Sharlen because they reminded him of his jailer. Sharlen set out in the park's direction, with Setu in tow.

"But why did Dhuzel go after Seilieze? There's something else going on here," insisted Setu. "I can smell it, no pun intended."

Sharlen mulled the question. "Seilieze is his real sister. Dhuzel could not kill his sister all over again—that's why he stopped."


	14. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I don't own TB, FB, PSOH, or anything else you recognize.

**Chapter 13**—_Friday Afternoon_

He hadn't told them why he was summoning them. This fact preyed upon Khoru's mind more and more often as he and Sheleru walked from Karori High School to Dze-I. It was hardly unusual for Seki not to tell them why he wanted to talk, so Khoru didn't have any particular reason to be nervous this time.

"Do you think Seki might let us—"

"Be quiet, Sheleru." Her mouth froze in mid-sentence, and she concentrated on the sidewalk instead. She'd known Khoru long enough to tell when he was in a strange mood. There were many moments from their childhood when they'd be playing happily one minute, and then Khoru would suddenly lose interest and become angry or sad. These abrupt emotional changes only began after Seki introduced himself to Sheleru and Khoru when they were ten.

Sheleru remained silent for the rest of the walk, and snuck glances at Khoru's drawn face every so often. Lately, she found herself wondering why she defended Seki as much as she'd done. Seki had always smiled at her, talked with her, and indulged her, but she never interacted with him as much as her fellow Dzuni. Sheleru wasn't the brightest person in the Shoma family, and she knew it, but even she could not help noticing the animosity some of the Dzuni nursed towards Seki. It gave her the sense that there were other sides to Seki that he hid from her. Khoru served as the liaison between Seki and the outside world many more times than she. For the first time, as they drew closer to the tea shop, Sheleru wondered if Khoru had been trying to protect her from Seki all these years.

Gins, vodkas, and wines from southern Hoth crowded the usual teas and juices out of the shop's display window. This week, Seki was featuring the famed alcoholic products from Ashomi Waste towns. "Ashomi Liquor Week" was one of the shop's busiest times of the year. Ironically, Dzaran Shuro, a well-known singer, helped make Ashomi Liquor Week famous by recommending Seki's shop on television. The tea shop was one of the few places where she could find high-quality vintages from Lhose, her old hometown. Shuro always ordered several cases from Seki during that week.

Sheleru and Khoru reached the shop just after Seki hung the "Closed" sign on the door. "Come in," he said, smiling wanly. Recently he'd been pale every day, and if one listened carefully, his breathing sometimes got labored.

"Will you let us try an Ashomi drink? Please?"cajoled Sheleru.

"Not today, my little one," replied Seki. "We must have our senses about us, and those drinks are formidable." The unusual gravity of his pronouncement surprised Sheleru. Normally Seki would never object to one of her playful requests. They followed Seki through the secret hallways, his apartments, and into a dark chamber that neither could recall ever having been inside before.

They heard grunting and scuffling from the blackness. Seki snapped his fingers, and a torch flared into life above their heads. Khoru closed his eyes and groaned when he saw the person muffled and tied to the chair in front of them. Ghumani Musa, his classmate and one of the nastiest students at Karori.

"Khoru, what's she doing here?" whispered Sheleru.

"Oh, gods. Oh, gods," muttered Khoru, his heart thudding against his chest.

Seki turned an antique key in the door's lock. "This is a sealed chamber," he announced so that Musa could hear. "No one will interrupt or overhear us." Sheleru's hand gripped her shoulder bag tightly. Seki motioned to his two charges to remain where they were, and took his place behind Musa. She froze as Seki placed his hands on her shoulder. "I would greatly appreciate it if you would settle down, please." Sheleru edged slightly behind Khoru without thinking. They seemed to have been dropped into a nightmare; the torchlight illuminated only Seki and the terrified Musa, and everything else was so black that it hurt the eyes to look at.

"I have had word," began Seki, "that you two have been talking to the Shomas about the Dzunis here."

"No!" Khoru sputtered. "All I said was that—"

"I know perfectly well what you said," continued Seki, his firm voice overriding Khoru's. "And I am not upset about what you said specifically, my little centaur. You gave them very little information, after all. However, I did tell you not to say anything without my permission, correct?" Khoru hesitated. "Correct?"

"Yes. Does Sheleru need to be here?"

"It appears to me that you and Sheleru could use reminders about why talking too freely is dangerous." Seki's nails dug into Musa's shoulders. "When you talked, Khoru, it naturally spread beyond your father and became the choice topic among the older Dzunis. That was to be expected, of course; human nature finds such news irresistible.

"You were extremely fortunate, Khoru," said Seki, his voice dropping to a lower octave, "that the servants did not pick up any of this. In the past, I have killed several servants who were planted on the Shoma estate to be spies for the Ghumani family." Musa whimpered. "Including this young lady's older brother."

"I-I don't understand," stammered Sheleru.

"The Ghumani family is responsible for all the Shoma family's misery. They are always trying to find ways to attack your family, Hotsukhoru and Sheleru." He walked around the chair so the bound girl could see him and asked her, "Is that not true?" His smile contained all the friendliness of a cobra about to strike at his victim. As he approached Khoru and Sheleru, they had to resist the urge to flee. Seki's face appeared a ghostly white despite the torch's healthy flame.

"Now, Hotsukhoru," murmured Seki, "I want you to pretend that this girl found out what you said to your father. That means the family secret has been breached, and to make matters worse, it is your worst enemy who knows." He pointed to the girl for emphasis. "What would you have to do in this case?"

"Can't I just erase her memory?" blurted Sheleru.

"No. That is too risky when a Ghumani is involved. Now, Khoru, what do you have to do?"

Khoru knew which answer Seki wanted to hear, but his teeth clenched and nothing came out. "Yes, that's right," said Seki approvingly. "Take your bow out."

"Khoru!" gasped Sheleru, shaking his arm.

"Back off, little girl." Seki pulled her away from Khoru. Reluctantly, Khoru extended his hand into the darkness. The short pine bow materialized in his fist, its wood cool to the touch. A triangular bump appeared on Khoru's forearm, near the wrist, and he drew the arrow out. It didn't hurt, and there was no blood—taking arrows out of his arm was like taking a contact out of his eye. In a daze he positioned the arrow on the notch, and raised the bow.

He took aim at the girl's heart. Her eyes pleaded with him to spare her, and he stood like a statue for a minute. He noticed the arrow quivering, and then saw his hand shaking. The sweat gathered on the back of his neck. Weak all of a sudden, he let the bow sag, and it disappeared into the air.

"You cannot kill her, can you?" asked Seki softly. "Can you imagine if a gentle Dzuni spirit such as yours were required to do such a thing? Then we would have Ghumanis overrunning the Shomas." He guided Khoru to the door, where Sheleru stood agape. "That is why it is necessary to have a Sakurazukamori trained in assassination to address such threats to the Dzuni. We avoid painful scenes, like what just happened, and the Dzuni are safer. Do you understand now why it is so important to listen carefully to my instructions?" The teenagers nodded. "And will you promise to always honor the Sakurazukamori's wishes?" They nodded again. The lock clicked, and Seki opened the door. "Good night, my dears. I shall save some Ashomi liquor for when you come again."

Once they had entered Seki's apartments, Khoru hustled Sheleru out of the shop. He did not slow down until they had walked a mile away from the teashop.

"Khoru," whispered Sheleru so bystanders wouldn't hear, "What's going to happen to that girl?"

"She's not leaving that room alive."

The ocean's rumbling carried through the air when the entire Shoma estate shut down in the early morning hours. The magnificent estate gardens ran along the eastern boundary, from the house to the stone wall that prevented wanderers from falling off the cliff and into the sea. This eastern wall was easily the most ancient part of the estate; it had originally been built a millennium ago after the family head's daughter jumped into the sea to escape an arranged marriage.

The northern, southern, and western partitions of the original stone wall had long since crumbled and been replaced with brick walls. But somehow the eastern wall resisted any attempts by plants, animals, weather, and humans to damage it. The wall stood in much the same condition as it had a thousand years ago. Many people attributed it to the power of the daughter's tragic end, but Seki knew otherwise.

Wrapped in a black cloak to better camouflage himself, Seki stood under Old Blood, the huge flame tree that overlooked the northwestern corner of the gardens. The moon had just passed its halfway mark in the sky. Old Blood had been part of the Shoma estate even longer than the eastern wall. Its roots hugged the wall intimately, and over time, had even grown into some of the foundation stones.

Like every other Sakurazukamori before him, Seki learned that Old Blood provided the life force for the entire Shoma estate and its people. The closer to Old Blood any object was, the greater its ability to survive. Anyone who stepped onto Shoma grounds would automatically pick up some of Old Blood's preservative powers. The eastern wall had never needed repairing because Old Blood had merged with it, and even the other walls had stood for seven hundred years before they needed replacement. The houses required much less maintenance than normal, and the people tended to be healthier and longer-lived. The gardeners always remarked how easy the gardens were to take care of; the flowers proved strangely hardy during the country's worse droughts, and the plants never suffered blight.

The tenth family head under the former Dzuni curse, who had been in her grave for three hundred years now, believed that Old Blood was maliciously sapping her life, and ordered her gardeners to destroy the tree. The poor gardeners were extremely hesitant, but feared their superior more. They tried axes, fire, poisons, and even explosives. The tree didn't show a single dint. Afterwards, it was said that those gardeners were never really healthy again. They complained of fatigue, aches, and anemia, and the cause remained unknown. This incident solidified the family's fear of Old Blood for good, and the Shomas left the tree to brood in relative peace.

Ghumani Musa's milky-colored body contrasted sharply with the craggy roots of the tree. Seki had taken off her clothes so the tree would have an easier time digesting her. He had also chosen to merely frighten the girl to death, so that more blood would remain. Since Seki was unable to feed Old Blood very often, it became imperative for the bodies he offered to be as whole as possible.

A leaden weight in his head threatened to make Seki faint, and he braced his feet against the sensation. He couldn't stay near Old Blood much longer. The roots refused to move, letting the body sit limply on them.

"Please," Seki begged. The lowness of his position wounded him, but he had to make the tree accept the girl. "I must have more strength." A rusty crackle responded, and Seki smiled as a thick root encircled the girl's midsection, and another took hold of her legs. The crackling grew louder as several other roots began pulling the body into the ground. Inch by inch, the white skin melted out of sight.

Seki felt the tree's rejuvenating energy travel from his feet to his head, and the fainting sensation vanished. He breathed deeply. This new health would last him only a short time, and he must make the best of it. "I thank you, Old Blood. Will you permit me a few of your blossoms?" The tree lowered a branch with blood-red flowers in full bloom. Seki could use these to make invigorating teas to help sustain his life a little longer. So went his grotesque exchange: death for life, which Seki had conducted for twenty-five years now. He tucked the flowers safely into a silk bag, and placed the bag into a deep pocket in his cloak. "Good night, Old Blood. I do not know if we shall meet again."

A deep voice disturbed the night. "**Well, even Old Blood not like you anymore, Sezuko**."

Unrattled, Seki turned and inclined his head. "Dzin-E." The ghost floated further down an overgrown path; only her head had fully materialized. Seki strode towards the wolf. "I should remind you that Old Blood does not care who feeds it. If no one attends to it, Old Blood will turn to the graveyard or anyone who happens to walk by." The family graveyard was situated just to the south of the tree's niche.

Dzin-E grinned lopsidedly. "**You had to beg, yes?**" Forcing his facial muscles to keep still, Seki cursed the wolf inwardly. Now he would have to waste precious strength to leave through magic to throw off the wolf. "**Even Old Blood can tell when Sakurazukamori disgraced**."

"Well, Old Blood will soon have a much better servant," concurred Seki. "If you came to kill me, you may as well do it." Dzin-E fell silent. "My goodness, you are actually obeying your master. What a shock." He saw the ghost fidget, and knew that she was drooling over the idea of sinking her fangs into his throat. "In any case, you are wise not to kill me now. There is too much for me to do yet."

"**We no want Sakurazukamori anymore**."

"I assure you, I shall die quite soon."

"**No. Demons not want _any_ Sakurazukamori.**"

"Do you speak for yourself, or for all the demons?" asked Seki. "I thought so. You're still quite irrational. In any case, no Sakurazukamori would be impossible, I am afraid. It would cause a war in the Oresho, and it is chaotic there right now. I am taking a grave enough risk with my successor as it is." The Oresho was short for the "Fog Lands," the name given to the spirit world by Hothans. The Dzuni demons came from the Fog Lands.

"**Who is your successor?**"

"There is no need for you to know." Seki smiled, for the wolf clearly had no idea what his plans were. It meant that he had escaped detection by the demons well enough. "Good night, Dzin-E." The wolf leapt as a vortex of flame tree blossoms swept Seki away.


	15. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I don't won TB, FB, PSOH, or anything else you recognize.

**Chapter 14**—_Early Sunday Morning_

The story that Rhezu and Tatara were lovers only gained strength when Tatara passed Rhezu a perfumed note in front of everybody at the police station on Friday. The _borustang_ didn't pay any attention to the snickers and murmurs, and Rhezu waited until he was safely inside his car before opening the note.

As he cracked open the envelope and drew out the white stationery paper, Rhezu felt strangely disappointed. He'd immediately recognized the scent as moonarrow root, Seki's signature aroma. One of his favorite poisons, Seki had told Rhezu. Quick and silent, yet agonizing. Rhezu would have preferred the scent of pure ice. The note read: "My dear Rhezanu, I hope that you and your younger brother are well. Please meet me at dawn in the basement of the Shoma mansion, with Kedi. I trust that you understand the cost of not heeding this note--S."

"Fuck," muttered Rhezu, standing in the basement at dawn, as commanded. What was so important that it had to be done at dawn? Kedi yawned, blinking blearily and deaf to his brother's cursing.

"Good morning. It will be a beautiful day." Seki rounded the corner. "I am glad you came on time, Rhezanu, before any servants came down here. Follow me." Rhezu grabbed hold of Kedi's hand. They trailed Seki as he threaded his way through a staggering number of corridors that led deeper and deeper into the estate's bowels. Eventually all the walls, the floor, the stairs, and ceiling turned earthen rather than the paved stone or brick that covered the basement sections that the Shomas knew.

"Are we going into a cave?" asked Kedi, who'd begun to wake from his semi-doze at the sight of the damp-smelling earth.

"No," chuckled Seki. "We are going to the most ancient and forgotten part of the Shoma estate." Up ahead a solid wall appeared, and it seemed that the group had reached a dead end.

"This is what you wanted us to see?" grunted Rhezu.

The infuriating smile crossed Seki's face. "Patience." Seki reached out with his foot and stepped on a barely noticeable pebble at the foot of the wall. Whooshing, the wall swung inwards and revealed a dark tunnel. Kedi instinctively took cover behind Rhezu. Seki vanished into the blackness momentarily, and then his guests saw him again, this time with a blazing ball of light floating over his outstretched hand. The supernatural light illuminated the immediate portion of the hallway well enough to reveal a cold marble floor, scarlet walls with golden borders, and ceiling frescoes that had disintegrated over time.

"I was forced to remove the carpets and paintings," whispered Seki mournfully. "They did not survive the passage of so many centuries." Rhezu shivered slightly; not only was it naturally cool down here, but the nakedness of the hallway heightened the chill. Seki turned to them for a moment. "I hope that your family will see fit to refurbish this area in the future."

"That color looks familiar to me," said Kedi.

"What color?" Rhezu followed Kedi's point to the walls. "The red?"

"Oh, Rhezanu, there are more descriptive words than 'red,'" scolded Seki. He recited the names lovingly: "Rose. Ruby. Scarlet. Crimson. Vermilion. Blood, the color of flame tree blossoms." The chill suddenly worsened, triggering goosebumps on Rhezu's skin.

"What's down here?" asked Kedi, apparently unaffected. Seki's eyes lost their far-off gaze and he smiled at the child. "Two more Dzunis. But you will only meet one of them today. She is closer to you two than you know."

"Oh, is it the egg Dzuni?" Kedi jumped up and down, pulling on Seki's free arm. "He let me touch the egg yesterday," Kedi explained to Rhezu. "And it broke apart! At first I almost cried, but then Seki said that Honlon would be free now and I could go visit her soon!"

"Honlon?" Rhezu, alarmed, turned to Seki. "Isn't she the one who caused the earthquakes?"

"Yes, but she will be fine as soon as I bring Kedi to her." Seki's breathing grew heavier as they walked deeper into the hallway.

"You all right?" whispered Rhezu.

"Here we are," said Seki, ignoring the question. "Honlon's apartment." The torch lit up only half the enormous double doors that stood before them. "Kedi, I would like you to try to open these doors just a little bit."

"Is it safe?" hissed Rhezu.

"I assure you that she will not attack a child," murmured Seki. "Go ahead, Kedi, try the door." The little boy reluctantly let go of his older brother's warm hand, and shuffled to the golden knobs as large as his head. He needed both hands to get a firm grip on the thick curlicue. The door remained unyielding the first time he tugged at it, then it creaked a few inches forward.

"Excellent." Kedi, his face flushed with exertion, stopped pulling when Seki spoke. "This means Honlon considers you worthy. Now, Kedi, when you have opened the door enough, please enter. Rhezanu, you will follow close behind."

"You're not coming?"

"No, Kedi. I must stay out here and give you your privacy with Honlon. It will be a special meeting." He patted the boy's head, but his hand fell as he swayed. "You see, I am feeling a little ill."

"Shouldn't you come in then?" asked Rhezu, supporting Seki by the elbow. The man's body felt surprisingly light and bony to Rhezu.

"No, it is quite all right," insisted Seki. "Go on." He steadied himself, and shook Rhezu off. "I shall be waiting." Taking one last look at the wan man, Rhezu stood behind Kedi. The boy strained as he heaved at the curlicue again. The door groaned loudly, but opened enough to permit entry. Rhezu took Kedi's hand, and squeezed through after his little brother.

The two missed the creaking and dull click that announced the door's closing behind them. They were too busy staring at the grandness before their eyes. Sandy marble columns, as smooth as freshly fallen snow, soared towards a vaulted ceiling. Rhezu's neck ached from looking up at the ceiling's elaborately carved ribcage of stone, and wondered how it could possibly be that high. Crystal chandeliers affixed halfway up the columns gave the room its light.

Outside in the bleak hallway, their footsteps had tapped audibly. Here, a narrow oriental carpet muffled their feet. The carpet ran all the way to a raised platform on which a squat throne large enough to seat a mountain troll from the old Hothan stories. The throne's arms flared out into flame tree blossoms, and a dragon's head was clearly engraved upon the headrest's golden plate.

"Wow," gasped Kedi. The echo continued long after the exclamation died. "Did a king live here, Rhezu?"

"I'm pretty sure not," whispered Rhezu. Speaking loudly seemed almost rude in such a chamber. He craned his head for any sight of objects built for normal people, but to no avail. "It's so empty in here." He wondered if Seki had been pulling their legs—how could a human live in a lonely, hidden place like this?

A click, and another click. Rhezu jumped out of his reverie, and jerked around to look at the great double doors. No, their creaking wouldn't have vanished so quickly. Another door had opened somewhere.

"Seki? Are you here?" The trembling call made Rhezu twitch and Kedi yelp. From the throne's right, a human figure emerged. It was a teenage girl dressed in a stained white t-shirt and striped blue and green boxers. Her ebony hair flowed uncombed to her midback, and bright red nailpolish gleamed on her exposed toes and fingers. She stared at the strange man and boy standing across the room, near the double doors.

"Hi! Are you Honlon?" shouted Kedi, breaking free from Rhezu's grip. The girl shifted from one foot to the other, wringing her hands.

"Kedi!" Rhezu trotted forward, reaching out for his brother's shoulder. "We shouldn't disturb her."

"Oh, no, no." The girl had recovered, and she started walking to meet them. "It's just—well, you're the first living creatures in here since Seki." Now that she came closer, Rhezu could see that recent weeping had reddened her narrow black eyes. "And yes, I'm Honlon. Who are you?"

"I'm Kedi, and this is my big brother Rhezu!" Kedi ran up to Honlon. "You have really pretty skin—I've never seen that color before." It was a milky toffee, a tone most commonly found among the inhabitants of the wild mountains in southern Tsaavo.

"Kedi!" hissed Rhezu again, feeling mortified. Kedi backed away, looking at Honlon guiltily. The outburst seemed to have frightened her, for she backed up several steps. "Apologize to her."

"I'm sorry, Honlon. I didn't mean to scare you." The girl's hands hovered around her jaw, as if to protect her from unseen blows. For the first time Rhezu clearly saw the black leather glove on her right hand. A string of purple beads lined the glove's flap. It was the sort that leaves the fingers uncovered, and it seemed much too punkish and adult for the timid Honlon.

Then she straightened, and wiped her eyes clear. Smiling, Honlon said in a strong voice, "Don't worry, Kedi. It's nice to meet some new people at last. Are you from the Shoma family?" Just as suddenly as she had smiled, she frowned and glared fiercely at Rhezu. "Did you say Rhezu? Are you my father? You look way too young."

Kedi, mystified, turned to stare at Rhezu, who gulped.

"Calm down," the pleasant Honlon hissed to herself. "Let me talk."

"No!" The hostile look returned, and she declared belligerently, "I want to know why Rhezu didn't come see me earlier."

Honlon's face grew taut, and she whimpered. "Please don't scare them, Khagame. They seem like nice boys. I kind of like them." Kedi and Rhezu continued staring as they watched her hands turn into fists and she yelled, "Oh shut up, you crybaby! When you're out you do nothing but cry all day!" She pinched her cheeks, and whimpered, "Please don't! I hate it when you pinch me! It hurts! It hurts!" Shaking with sobs, she crumpled to the floor. By now Kedi clung tightly to Rhezu's jacket, and Rhezu considered whether to back out the double doors slowly.

Honlon jerked violently, and the gloved hand slapped her cheek hard. "Be quiet, both of you! You're freaking them out! Just let me talk."

"What's with you? You have multiple personalities?" asked Rhezu.

"Hmph! I'm not mentally ill," retorted Honlon. The sane person seemed to be speaking now, which relieved Rhezu. Kedi let go of his jacket slightly. Honlon smiled ruefully. "But I do literally have multiple personalities. Four of them, actually." She stood up slowly, pulling down her shorts discreetly. "It can be hard managing them, as you see. It's like having four different people sharing the same body."

"Is Khagame one of them? One of your people, I mean," asked Kedi, curiosity overcoming his fear.

"Yes. I'm Horiko, the second oldest, Khagame comes after me, and Dzore, the crying one, is the youngest. Shurunu is the oldest, and she's like a mother to the rest of us, but she doesn't appear very often." Momentarily Honlon's face pinched. "Together we're called Honlon, which is East Gogothan for 'four heads'. We appear as a four-headed dragon in animal form, you see."

"Neat!" cried Kedi. "So how old are you?"

"Well," breathed Honlon, pausing to think. "This body was born fifteen years ago. I, Horiko, am also fifteen. Shurunu is older than I am, though I have no idea how much. As for Khagame…" Honlon chuckled. "She was born precisely nine days ago, and Dzore was born just yesterday."

"When Kedi touched the egg?" asked Rhezu incredulously. The idea of Kedi "fathering" one of Honlon's personalities at his age sounded too bizarre.

Honlon nodded at Rhezu, reading his thoughts accurately. "It's been quite an adjustment. For a long time it was just me and Shurunu, but I'm managing."

"I don't cry that much," said Kedi abruptly.

"I'm sure you don't," reassured Honlon, petting him gently on the head. "Dzore gets lonely in these rooms sometimes, and that's why she cries. Maybe you could stop by and play with her sometimes?"

"Yeah, we'll try," said Rhezu.

Khagame's voice blurted, "Ah, geez, Horiko, you know damn well Seki won't let them come here." She folded her arms sullenly. "He won't let us out of here, either."

"Don't use that language around Kedi!" scolded Horiko, glancing surreptitiously towards Kedi, who of course had heard everything. "We'll talk later, Khagame. Where did you hear that word anyway?"

"Seki won't punish them, will he?" gasped Dzore. Her face twisted, and she growled. She grabbed handfuls of her black hair and pulled hard. "You little nit! You were the one who said you liked them!" yelled Khagame.

Horiko again, stamping her foot. "Khagame, stop torturing poor Dzore this instant! Both of you are scaring our guests!"

"Think you're so high-and-mighty?" Khagame crowed, slapping her cheeks repeatedly with both hands.

"Please stop!" An agitated look crossed Honlon's face, and she buried her face in her hands. "Horiko, Khagame, stop fighting! Please!" She huddled on the floor, sobbing once again.

Kedi ran over to Honlon, putting his arm around her. "It's okay. We're not scared, right, Rhezu?"

"Right." Rhezu sighed. Truthfully, he'd been thinking something different—Honlon was fifteen. The only other Dzuni of the same age was Zian, and she was definitely not their long-lost sister. Honlon had to be their sister, and Rhezu was beginning to see her in a different light. He remembered what Seki had said at the banquet—that the second personality inherited the same personality as the mother who gave birth to the baby. "So, Horiko takes after my mother…" he thought. And the two younger personalities took after himself and Kedi. He laughed wryly. Indeed, his mother would've had a challenge dealing with his temper and Kedi's sensitivity. He snorted, but the giggles building up in his chest won. Kedi looked sideways at Rhezu, wondering if he was going insane as well.

Eventually Rhezu mastered his giggles, and adopted a more sober look. Honlon had stopped wailing. She sat absolutely still on the floor. "Are you all right now, Honlon?" asked Kedi hopefully. Slowly she unfolded her body and stood up. Her uncovered hand caressed Kedi almost lovingly, and her face had taken on a sad expression that Rhezu knew a fifteen-year-old could not have. "Shurunu?"

She smiled thinly. "Hello, Rhezu and Kedi. Would you like a drink?"

"I'm hungry," complained Kedi. "We didn't have time to eat breakfast."

The adjoining rooms that Honlon guided Rhezu and Kedi through were much smaller and humbler than the grand hall. The pantry yielded dried fruit, crackers, and nuts for the hungry guests, and they settled down in Honlon's bedroom. Rhezu noted that Honlon, or Horiko and Khagame at least, displayed the same horrendous messiness as he did. The bedsheets were completely rumpled, and piles of clothing, videos, and toys dominated half the room. One corner, where a comfy chair and coffee table sat, seemed relatively orderly. Honlon tugged two beanbags out from under the bed. "Every Dzuni I've met seems to have those in their apartments," remarked Rhezu.

"I've never met any of the others. Seki won't let them in here." From the relatively cheerful tone, Rhezu guessed Horiko was speaking.

"Why not?" Rhezu sank into a striped orange and yellow beanbag, which let off a cloud of dust. "You're one of them, aren't you?" Honlon showed Kedi where her old toy box was, and he lost interest in the conversation. She shoved her comforter aside, and sat cross-legged on her bed.

"Horiko, Khagame, Dzore," she said softly to herself. "I need to talk to Rhezu about some important things, so please stay quiet until I'm finished." A grim smile. Shurunu had returned. She checked to make sure Kedi wasn't listening. "The other three can't hear what I say when I send them off. To answer your question, Rhezu, Sezuko fears me."

"Who?"

"It's his real name. Sakurazuka Sezuko. I find 'Seki' ridiculously childish. You have heard of the Sakurazukamori, yes?" Rhezu nodded, stuffing some crackers into his mouth. "Give me some of that fruit, would you? Thanks. I should explain who I am," continued Shurunu, munching quietly. "I'm actually the Dzuni demon for the four-headed dragon."

"Like the ghost wolf?"

"Yes. In Honlon's case, the personalities of the demon and the mother are always the first to manifest themselves when the baby is born. The demon is there to help Honlon learn to control her powers properly."

"I see. So you, Shurunu, have been here from the beginning?" Rhezu had heard enough confusing Dzuni-related explanations by now to start understanding them faster. "But you didn't tell Horiko and the others to beat it just to tell me that."

"No," chuckled Shurunu, fingering the beads on the glove. "I wanted to speak with you about Sezuko. I'm sure you have questions, but first tell me about your dealings with him."

Rhezu recounted in detail their first meeting in front of the teashop, Seki's threats and iffy health, the banquet, and gossip he had heard from other Dzunis. Shurunu listened intently, nodding intermittently.

When he finished, Shurunu said, "You and Kedi should separate yourselves from Sezuko as soon as possible. It'll do no good to stay around him any longer."

"Kedi, go play in the next room," ordered Rhezu. The child obeyed, taking a box of toy animals along. Once he was sure Kedi was out of his hearing, Rhezu turned back to Honlon. "You heard what I said about Seki's threats, right? I can't leave Kedi…and others exposed to him."

"If you let me out, I will kill Sezuko and put an end to all this nonsense. He's too weak to escape from me now." Shurunu's eyes blazed.

"No. Not even our family head will let the ghost wolf—"

"No, _you_ listen to me!" The force jolted Rhezu back onto his beanbag. "I'm dying, too. Just me, not the other three—they're fine. I have as little time as Sezuko to live, maybe less. I have to get out now if I have any chance of getting him! Do you like being beholden to him? Do you want him holding your brother's life in his hands?" She lowered her voice. "He is the one responsible for ripping little children away, including your own sister, from their parents. Because of his carelessness, that horrid curse hounded the Shoma family for five centuries. Because he could not save the Shomas from being cursed, the Dzuni demons have suffered terribly in the Oresho. My lineage was attacked by an evil demon and cursed. As a result, we never live past the age of 30. All of this because of Sezuko!" Raging tears slid down her cheeks. "Let me out, Rhezu," she growled, her nose only two inches away from his, "so I can kill that pitiful shell of a man. I can't leave these rooms unless someone accompanies me beyond the barrier Sezuko put up."

"Then why don't you drag me out forcibly? That could get you out just as well, couldn't it?"

Grinding her teeth, she muttered, "I have pride, unlike Sezuko." Breathing sharply, she scooted back onto the bed and leaned against the wall. Her skin turned white.

"Shit, what's wrong?" Rhezu scrambled to pour a glass of water.

"My clan's sickness," whispered Shurunu. She seemed pinched and held her arms over her stomach, like she was trying to keep it from exploding. "It'll pass."

"Have some." He managed to pour some water down her throat.

"Will you let me out?"

He stared at her incredulously. "When you're in this condition? Gods, no! I can't have you risking yourself, and what if you suddenly drop dead? Seki would surely come after Kedi or myself or some other Shoma then!"

Her arms relaxed, and color began to replace the paleness. "Then let Horiko do it—I've explained…"

"But Horiko might not be able to keep Khagame and Dzore from interfering, right?"

Shurunu pouted; Rhezu glared at her. Finally Shurunu sighed after the standoff had lasted five minutes. "Fine, have it your way, Rhezu. But will you do two things in return?"

"If I don't think they're insane. Finish the glass."

"When I die, my son from the Oresho will replace me. But he's only a little older than Kedi, and my death will be very hard on him." She gulped, and quickly drank the rest of her water. "Horiko, Khagame, and Dzore will also be very upset. I hope that you'll comfort them." Observing his pained look, she said firmly, "It won't be like losing your mother, Rhezu. Horiko and the others are the ones you should get closer to, not the demon. It doesn't matter as much if you don't have a good relationship with the demon, because you're not a Dzuni."

"Still, I'm sorry you have to go so soon. Of course I'll do my best."

"Thank you." A gloomy pall hung over the room.

"What's the second thing?" asked Rhezu, suddenly irritated by the mood.

"I want you to look for the Kirin."

"The what?"

"Kirin. It's the leader of the Dzuni—a hybrid between a unicorn and a dragon. I'm certain that Sezuko keeps him or her imprisoned deeper in these hallways. You don't have to worry as much about this promise, since the Kirin is likely to escape the moment Sezuko becomes too weak to contain it. But as a personal favor to me, a Dzuni demon, it would be wonderful if you can help return the Kirin to the Dzunis."

Rhezu remained thoughtful. "Ok. I'll try." They shook hands.

Her eyes brightened, and her lips lifted slightly at the corners. "Whoa! How long were you chatting with Shurunu? She usually isn't so talky," said Horiko.

"Hey! She was crying!" exclaimed Khagame, wiping her nose. "What did you say to her, you snotball?" The next moment, Rhezu groaned on the floor, holding a hand to his eye socket. Khagame, apparently, had inherited his punch.


	16. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I don't own TB, FB, PSOH, or anything else you recognize.

**Chapter 15**—_Late Friday Night to Early Saturday Morning_

Nearly a week after he'd met Honlon, Rhezu seriously reconsidered Shurunu's plea to let her escape.

He had to sneak behind Seki's back to see Beri. At least half the Dzuni tiptoed around their guardian, and most wanted to leave the teashop. Shurunu had made an excellent point about Seki threatening Kedi and himself. Why let that continue? If Seki knew—and he did possess a knack for gathering information—that he and Beri were now lovers, she might fall victim to Seki as well. He looked at the white outline of her face, sleeping peacefully on a _murin_ pillow.

His shoulders shivered suddenly, and he pulled the blanket up around his chest. Beri set the temperature higher for his sake, but it was still well below room temperature. He huddled deeper into the blanket and closed his eyes. His inner debate over Shurunu wore him down. He hadn't been able to visit Honlon again because his duties at the police station consumed all his time. A new thought surfaced: what if letting Shurunu kill Seki actually speeded up her death? If his mother had taught him one thing while she was still alive, it was that if you were sick, exerting yourself never helped. Neither Rhezu nor his father ever took it easy enough while they were ill, but that rule certainly held true.

He exhaled, watching his breath waft out in grey swirls. It seemed a year ago that he first met Tatara and became involved in the Seki drama. Meeting his mother in a dream seemed as real as "birthing" a dragon through touching a mystical egg. No, it had not been all bad. Getting closer to his little brother, making peace with his mother, and

Beri were worth the pain Seki gave him.

The ice walls looked like statues of ghosts in the darkness. When he didn't focus his eyes, the white shapes began to contort and form their own eerie netherworld inside Ghoberen's room. Rhezu shook his head and lay back down. Perhaps the best thing to do would be look for the supreme Dzuni that Honlon told him about. He'd remember the name in the morning, after some decent sleep. Curling against Beri's cool skin, he sank into a slumber so deep that he didn't snore as usual.

Tatara started out, slowly, from the police station in downtown Lhasa, and meandered to Malizu Park on the outskirts of the Binu neighborhood. When he wasn't working a night shift, he walked all over Lhasa. By now he knew each alleyway, market, and park. He had learned them very early on, right after he arrived in Hoth.

From the Malizu cliffs, which marked the beginning of the highest cliffs along the Lhasa seaside, a visitor could look to the north and see the lights of the downtown dance on the sea. On a clear day the port could also be glimpsed. Since he first discovered the Malizu overlook, Tatara returned repeatedly. Seeing the lights never failed to bring back the magic and euphoria he associated with Lhasa.

But lately the terrors were creeping even on this sacred pilgrimage. The night wind from the east carried faint scents of fear and desperation. The golden and blue lights on the water morphed into red and orange tongues of fire. The sea's crashing waves sounded like wood shattering and glass breaking.

In a cold sweat, Tatara did an about-face and hurried from the cliffside, crossing the windswept grass into the small forest. Expertly stepping through the brush to avoid rustling it, the tree cover reassured Tatara. Since he was younger, he'd always had a habit of preferring nighttime to daytime. It once led Seki to make a wry remark that they had quite a lot in common with each other. Night's thick curtain covered their tracks.

Tatara's relief did not last long. The phantom pain in his head returned, as it occasionally would, without warning. His ears started throbbing and burning. To snap himself out of the imaginary affliction, Tatara extended the claw on his left index finger and sliced a deep gash across his right forearm. The shock ended the phantom pain immediately, and he waited patiently for the gash to close again.

He returned home to the person who would give him comfort: Seki.

A second Dzuni endured sleeplessness this night. Shoma Khureno had been locked in his gilded prison since he was a mewling newborn. To this day he had never figured out how the Sakurazukamori had fed him and Sharlen. Khureno shuffled into an upright position and scanned his vast bed. He remembered the nights he and Sharlen had giggled away, hiding under the sheets and exchanging ludicrous stories and childish jokes. Sharlen always had a fertile imagination, but Khureno possessed a lively mind as well. Some of Sharlen's books showcased characters and plots originally invented by Khureno, who had gracefully declined his share of the royalties.

He chuckled, recalling Sharlen's ridiculous offer to split his book sales with him. The vampire was jesting, and knew perfectly well that Khureno would refuse. Evidence of riches proliferated everywhere within his apartments. A giant gold engraving greeted anybody who entered through the mahogany doors; it featured what appeared on first glance to be a galloping unicorn. Then once one's eyes had become accustomed to the brilliance, the creature's true exterior became much clearer.

A jagged horn, its surface rough like coral, jutted from the forehead. A ribbed dragon's snout protruded from what was mostly a normal-looking horse's head. The creature had its head thrown back, and if one looked closely enough, vicious canines were visible. Delicate scales covered most of the creature's body, giving way to fur on its underside. The hooves were cloven, topped by fluffs of fur that resembled flame trails.

A wise, but no doubt long-dead, Hothan poet once said that the eyes represented a microcosm of the Kirin's fierce but compassionate nature. They were teardrops sitting on their sides, with the narrow ends tapering out and slightly upwards. The eyelashes complemented the large eyes perfectly by flaring outwards as well, but they were so thick and wavy that they resembled flames more closely than mere eyelashes. "The fires of justice," the poet had called the Kirin's eyes.

That line always bit into Khureno whenever he thought of it. Some wielder of justice he was, unable to leave his apartments or use his supernatural abilities. Seki had sealed his powers too well. Khureno couldn't do anything to help Sharlen with his women problems—the vampire was clearly having trouble with some girl, though he remained very vague about it—or help Tatara, whose repressed memories were finally haunting him with a revenge, as Khureno always feared they would.

His guardian had not put one toe inside Khureno's rooms for the last, oh…six years. Seki's last visit nearly ended in death—Khureno's hands had just started squeezing his neck when the sorceror vanished, making his would-be killer crash to the floor and scream in frustration.

The Kirin got out of the bed. His golden silk nightrobe whispered softly as he walked aimlessly through his rooms. Lying in bed only made him more frustrated when such thoughts bounced around inside his head. The darkness didn't impede his progress—he knew these rooms like the back of his hand.

Inevitably, he ended in front of the great engraving, leaning against it and facing the double doors that barred his way out for 24 years. He was seven the first time he tried to escape, and it was also the first time he experienced the effects of the sealing spell Seki had placed on him. His child's hand reached for the doorknob with an innocent ecstasy, and the door opened readily. As soon as his foot crossed the threshold, his body, responding to an invisible magnetic force, slammed flat against the floor. Seki loomed over the prone, crying child with that infuriating smile and lectured him on obeisance. Even now the adult Khureno still growled when he recalled the scene. His parents—all the young Dzunis' parents—literally right above his head. His apartments were located further down the hallway Seki had guided Rhezu and Kedi down just days earlier.

While brooding, he felt the unseen weight on his body flicker and disappear. The weight was the only physical manifestation of the sealing spell that Khureno could feel—Sharlen, who'd also been sealed while he lived with the Kirin, once described the sensation as "dragging iron balls with each step." Khureno was so used to the heaviness by now that he never noticed it, but he did notice whenever it suddenly disappeared. Two years ago, he'd started feeling these flickers, and Sharlen told him that Seki would sometimes take ill and not give any explanation. From recent reports, Khureno now knew Seki was dying, and the flickers had become more common and longer-lasting.

He stood in the murkiness, waiting. Five minutes later, the oppressive weight returned to his body. "Hmm." Khureno walked back into his bedroom, pondering the possibilities. Five minutes. The longest yet. He glanced at his dressing table mirror. The Kirin's spirit naturally endowed him with extraordinary physical capabilities. His reflection revealed the powerful chest, and he could run quite a distance. Unfortunately, he possessed no conception of how far he'd need to go to reach the main Shoma house. He should ask Sharlen when the vampire came to see him again. Until then, he'd bide his time and see if the flickers got any longer.

In any case, the bastard would die soon enough, and he'd be reunited with his family and take his proper place among the Dzuni.

Deep inside the teahouse, Seki finished brewing a thin coppery liquid. The concoction smelled of bittersweet autumn roses, which meant he'd mixed it correctly. Any potion with belladonna required strict attention and delicacy, so he felt relieved. Now he could rest and conserve his strength. He poured the liquid into an antique glass bottle. For safekeeping, he locked it in the cabinet above his still-cooling cauldron. It could be quite tiring to create these old-fashioned potions, which required old-fashioned methods. The fire's ashes hissed as he threw water on them.

His cleanup duties finished, he took a lit taper in his left hand and began his trek up the stairs. Each step now called for more effort, and by the time he reached the top, his heart threatened to explode through his sternum. His heart calmed somewhat when he reached his room, but each breath whistled as he sucked it in.

Despite his poor health, he did not merely flop onto his bed and sink into unconsciousness. He set the taper gently into a candlestick, and lowered himself carefully onto the pallet. A few deep breaths to steady himself. One puff extinguished the taper. He raised each leg up, and lay down, closing his eyes. He would rest for a day and a night before undertaking the arduous duties ahead of him. The children would not miss him—they were quite self-sufficient and would have enough food and drink. Seki permitted sleep to overtake him at last.


	17. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: I don't own TB, FB, PSOH, or anything else you recognize.

**Chapter 16**—_Monday Afternoon_

On a whim, Halina decided to stop by the teashop after lunch. Her next meeting wasn't for an hour, and it was in Dze-I anyway.

The chimes rang pleasantly, and she sniffed loudly, savoring the aroma of tea.

"In most places, sniffing loudly is considered extremely rude," remarked Seki lightly, but smiling nevertheless. He took in the woman's red-rimmed eyes and ragged appearance. She hadn't noticed that her skirt was backwards, her blouse was untucked in the back, and her feet dragged on the rugs—obvious side effects of sleep deprivation. Also, no customers were in the shop now. A corner of his smile lifted further. Perfect.

"You look as if you could use a soothing tea, my dear," said Seki. A steaming teacup containing a reviving brew sat in front of him for his own use. His long sleep had restored his vigor somewhat, but each moment awake drained it. "Has work been stressful?"

"Oh, it hasn't let up one bit, and it's been that way for more than two weeks now," moaned Halina. "I just hit a busy spell at the wrong time." Seki poured some of his tea for her, and she accepted gratefully.

"The maneaters are not bothering you, I hope?" It was a few days since Seki had had a chance to gauge her relationship with them.

She laughed. "They're the only ones keeping me alive. Setu makes me dinner everyday; otherwise I'd hardly get anything to eat." Suddenly she felt a little awkward discussing them with Seki. "It's nothing," said Halina quickly in response to his questioning look. She blushed, and felt like an idiot.

"It is not wrong to love more than one person," murmured Seki.

"What?"

"You feel as if you must make a choice soon, yes?" Halina sipped the tea hastily, letting it slip down her throat untasted. His intuition made her feel so exposed sometimes.

"My dear," continued Seki, "you know that I like to experiment with new flavorings and the like."

"Yes." She didn't know what that had to do with anything, but her overwrought brain let it go.

"I have a new flavoring that I made precisely with your dilemma in mind—important decisions that must be made sooner or later. It clears your mind and allows you to think more clearly." Seki reached under his counter, and took out what appeared to be a diamond-shaped flask no larger than Halina's thumb. "I call this 'Sultry.'" Leaning forward conspiratorially, he added with a wink in his voice, "I have found that romance sells well in this business."

They both chuckled, and Halina took the flask. She took the stopper off and waved the bottle under her nose. "It smells wonderful, like roses."

"I would particularly recommend it for tea after dinner. Then it would settle your mind and allow you to sleep better, if that has been an issue lately."

"Oh, thank you, I appreciate it so much."

"Please let me know how it works." Halina tucked the flask into her purse, and turned to leave. "Oh, one more thing," said Seki suddenly. She stopped. "It has a very powerful taste, so do not pour more than one drop in each cup. Otherwise it will ruin the tea, and I do insist on perfection."

"Don't touch my papers!" snapped Tatara, almost baring his teeth. Rhezu raised his hands from the pile on his desk, and backed away. He scrutinized Tatara, whose attention had immediately returned to cleaning the file cabinets. Take out a file, flip the pages, put in back in, take it out again, double-check it, put it back in, start the next one. Just watching the process made Rhezu stressed.

"Take it easy, Tatara. I think you've gone through all those files twice now," commented Rhezu softly.

"No, I have to do this."

"Why? You're not trying to hide evidence or anything like that, are you?"

"Of course not, moron. This is routine."

Rhezu counted to three, and then let the insult drop. He continued to watch Tatara go through the files, throwing them back in roughly. Closing the door to their shared office quietly, Rhezu asked, "Tatara. Are you angry because of me and Beri?"

"What do you mean?"

"At least he stopped with the damn filing," thought Rhezu. He sighed and said, "Tatara, Beri and I are together now."

The _borustang_ stared at Rhezu for a moment. "Well, why would that bother me?"

"I-I just thought…considering what you're like, that you'd have wanted me to ask permission first."

"Why would I require that? Your love lives are none of my business," answered Tatara peevishly. The files started flying in and out of the cabinet again. This time Rhezu watched more closely, and realized that fear, not anger, was the impetus behind his partner's half-crazed filing. He was being so focused, yet too distracted to take in the files' actual contents. Tatara looked like a desperate man who knew that his end was near, and Rhezu felt a squeeze in his gut.

"You're not in trouble, are you, Tatara?" Rhezu gripped Tatara's shoulder firmly. "Tell me what it is. I'm here. And you better damn well not say nothing's wrong, because that'll be the worst lie I've heard from anyone yet." Tatara pressed his lips closely together, and his hands, which had been reaching for a file, dropped on the rim of the open drawer instead. "You're scared. Even Rhezu the moron is not blind, you know." The last sentence drew a crooked half-smile from Tatara, but nothing else. "Is it Seki?" Rhezu felt the wiry muscle contract suddenly. "So it's him. He's the problem, isn't he?"

The shoulder shook harder, and a mirthless giggling burst from Tatara.

"What the fuck, Tatara? Mind explaining this to me?" demanded Rhezu. "I don't see much worth laughing about."

"First you think I'm angry about you sleeping with Beri—"

"How did you know?" hissed Rhezu. "She hasn't told anybody!"

Tatara smirked. "I can smell her perfume on you, idiot. For the record, I think you're perfect for her. If anything, I'm happy, not upset. You're honest, which is the only kind of man who could take her. Otherwise she'd finagle every secret out of you, play mind games, and destroy you in the process." Rhezu gawked as Tatara began laughing again. "And you think Seki is my biggest problem."

Recovering quickly, Rhezu threw his hands up in the air and demanded, "Well, then, what is wrong with you? You're acting like an obsessive-compulsive person and threatening me."

The laughter faded, and misery etched itself deeply inside Tatara's eyes. The gray irises widened, and the lids twitched as he saw phantoms invisible to Rhezu. Taking pity, Rhezu ordered Tatara to come to his apartment tonight, and to not return to the teashop. "You need a break from that place, anyway."

Halina finally arrived home at ten after three hours of flipping through mostly horrendous manuscripts. Evidently everyone in Lhasa felt impelled to try creative writing, and the results weren't attractive. She dumped her briefcase and jacket somewhere in the middle of her living room, and shuffled into the cramped kitchen. A minute later, she set the teakettle on the stove. While she waited for it to boil, she pulled the crystal flask out of her purse and admired its professional cut. A rainbow glistened within its edges and grooves, even under the bleary apartment lighting.

A light rap at the door. Halina gasped and nearly dropped the flask. "Who's there?"

"It's your love puppy, Halina," responded Sharlen.

"Gods, I swear that if you've come to give me more manuscripts to read, I'll scream," said Halina, still keeping the door closed.

"You're cruel," whined Sharlen. "No, I came to try to seduce you."

A cross-looking Halina opened the door at last. "You have to stop saying things like that in the hallway, where everyone can hear." Sharlen stepped over the forgotten briefcase. "With all these men coming to my apartment, my neighbors will think I run a one-woman brothel."

The teakettle whistled softly, and Halina rushed to the stove. Sharlen stood close behind her. "I'm sorry I irritated you," he whispered.

"Damn, why does he have to sound so sweet now?" thought Halina, dunking the tea bags into two mugs. She wanted rest her head against his comfortable robe, but stopped herself when images of Dhuzel and Setu wafted into her head. Seki's words echoed: "You feel as if you must make a choice soon, yes?"

"It's all right, Sharlen. I'm out of my mind, anyway," said Halina. "Sit down and I'll bring the tea." He took a seat on the sofa, and Halina decided to add the rose-scented flavoring at the last minute. One drop in each cup. Just smelling it sent soothing waves through her face. "Aah."

The cushion complained loudly as she plopped down next to Sharlen. They talked idly for a few moments first, letting the tea sit. Sharlen drank first—he'd overestimated the temperature and the walk to her building left him thirsty.

"Usually I don't like tea, but this is good," he remarked, surprised. Halina took a long draw from her mug. "What kind did you use?"

"Oh, it's ordinary tea, actually. The flavoring I put in is what makes it so good." She sipped the tea again. "How does Seki come up with these wonderful recipes?"

"Seki gave this to you?" asked Sharlen in a wooden voice. His fingers seemed frozen into place around the stem. He couldn't help observing that only a thin layer of tea remained at the bottom of his mug. By then, the potion was already taking effect, and he forgot why he was so worried about the tea. He swallowed the rest, and Halina drained hers as well.

Four hours after Sharlen and Halina drank the tea, Rhezu's apartment in Gashuni had one wide-awake inhabitant. Tatara had already finished his half-hour sleep, and he looked around. Being a _borustang_, he possessed excellent night vision. His amazement at the apartment's sad state and the semi-smutty posters that ringed the walls distracted him from his haunted memories. Rhezu's loud snoring also fascinated him in a morbid way. He supposed that he was lucky not to need long sleeping periods, for this snoring could waken a rock. "I wonder how Beri sleeps in this racket," thought Tatara.

He sat perfectly erect in the single-room apartment's best chair. Which was a poor compliment, considering that it was a wobbly, plastic folding chair. Tatara had had plenty of practice getting used to long nights with nothing to do. As a young teenager, he passed such nights by determinedly learning the Hothan language until he could speak it fluently. Sometimes he played games with Sharlen, or other Dzuni who liked to stay up very late. But many times he walked or simply sat still, thinking about anything that came to mind.

His razor-sharp ears sensed a ghostly rustle, and he shot to his feet. A man bent over Rhezu's sleeping form.

"Who are you?" demanded Tatara, automatically unsheathing his claws and tensed for fighting.

"It is only me," came Seki's soft, amused voice.

"Oh, hello." Tatara relaxed slightly, still puzzled. "What are you doing here at this time?"

"I was just making sure that Rhezu would stay unconscious while you and I talk," explained Seki, checking the sleeping man one final time. Tatara felt uneasy. If it were a normal conversation, Seki would not waste time making sure a witness remained silent.

"It has become clear to me, Tatara," began Seki again when he straightened, "that you do not want to return to your proper home."

"But I'm bound to serve you," protested Tatara. "And I'm happy to serve you until the end, Seki."

The dark figure shook his head slowly. "You are always dutiful, Tatara, but that is not the same as duty-bound, which I doubt you understand." The _borustang_ stared, mystified. Seki crossed the room step by step. "For years, you have seen me as your savior and master. In doing so, you also used me as a shield against your past. This view is keeping you from moving forward, and I must put an end to it." Now Seki patted Tatara's cheek. He couldn't discern any expression in the sorceror's face.

"And how will you stop it?" asked Tatara, trembling violently. He hated himself for giving his feelings away so blatantly.

"This is what I am talking about. You are repressing yourself so badly that your past preys upon you even more. You fear and loathe your past so much, that only your given name has remained unchanged. My dear Tatara, now that ten years have passed and you are an adult, you should reconsider whether I am such a wonderful person. You have already questioned that—" He made a gesture to be quiet when Tatara tried to object—"but your stubborn insistence on seeing me as your savior blocks your doubts." Seki backed off, remaining within arm's reach. "You must return to Strelyba and make peace with your past, Tatara."

"No."

"Yes. Goodbye, Tatara. It is the last time we shall see each other. Serve the Dzuni well."

"No, Seki!"

"You are strong; you will live." With these words, Seki raised his right arm and began chanting in Zi Aldan. Tatara groaned and bent over, clutching his abdomen. Something popped inside his belly, and he could feel blood welling over his arm. The last thing he saw was Seki fading away within a shower of flame tree blossoms.

When Rhezu finally snapped out of his unnaturally deep sleep, he found Tatara lying unmoving on the floor in a blood-soaked shirt. His eyes were closed, like he had stopped to nap for a few minutes.


	18. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: I don't own TB, FB, PSOH, or anything else you recognize.

**Chapter 17**—_Early Tuesday Morning_

The sleeping Tatara saw nothing and was aware of nothing at first, while his self-healing body fought desperately to keep him alive immediately after the attack. A fountain of blood seemed to pour from the abdominal wound. Finally, enough clotting set in that his body could begin to settle into the calmer comatose phase. It was his body's last resort for recovery, a state that Tatara had never experienced before. At a snail's pace, his body would coax the cuts and ruptures inside into closing, replace the lost blood, and cover the wound with a seamless new layer of skin. But all this had to happen slowly, or his body would not maintain the energy it needed to complete these crucial jobs. Now chance would dictate whether Tatara would last long enough to heal and live.

When Tatara slid into the coma completely, a blackness replaced the nothingness. The restraints on his mind disappeared, and a flood of distorted images crowded themselves into Tatara's coma dreams. Beri pestering him, pulling his arm, trying to get his attention. Rhezu snoring in her bed. Little Beri, eleven years old, suddenly jumping on him to wake him up, and laughing in a queer high-pitched voice. A swirling white-and-red spiral, around and around it goes. Now there are flame tree blossoms circling instead, concealing Seki's arm raised, raised to bless the little Dzuni children. A fat-cheeked Sharlen, very rosy cheeks. Maybe he had too much blood in his body. And then the man he dreaded, a powerfully built and tall man with white hair and a mournful expression. Somewhere under the white hair would be a black layer. It was only Lafidzi, the lady in black, dressing up in a mournful man costume.

The people came and went, laughing and sobbing and walking and sleeping and floating. Then it was Tatara's turn to float. He stood in Malizu Forest, the trees reaching to the heavens with their pine tops far out of view. One stride, and he raced from the forest to the grassy cliff. A second stride, and he sailed over the cliff's edge, weaving from side to side like a feather in the air. The rocks below were black, and he could not see them. The full moon lit a path in the choppy water, a pilgrimage path due straight northeast. Tatara zoomed forward along the path when he should've hit the water, and he reveled in the breeze and the pure moonlight. But as the sweet lights of Lhasa shrank and shrank, he screamed, a silent scream that couldn't escape, as he realized where the moonbeams were pulling him. He screwed his eyelids shut to block anything that came next, but the wind pried them open again.

_Midmorning_

Instinctively, Rhezu had leaned close to Tatara's open mouth to listen for breath sounds. The faintest puff of warm air brushed his auricle. There was a thready heartbeat, but it was a heartbeat nonetheless. After being relieved that his partner wasn't dead, a helplessness seized Rhezu as he took in Tatara's peaceful expression, a horrific contrast to his wounds.

Tatara had once warned Rhezu not to give him medical treatment if he were seriously injured, because it would interfere with his body's natural healing mechanisms. The seeping blood taunted Rhezu. "To hell with it!" He seized a blanket from the floor, roughly folded it several times, and used it as a pressure pad to stop the bleeding. The blanket was soiled, but risking infection was the least of Tatara's problems now.

He kept the pad on for an hour. Finally he lifted it delicately, peeling it away little by little to avoid dislodging any clots that had formed. Satisfied that the bleeding had ended, he checked Tatara's vitals again. Rhezu rolled back onto his haunches, relieved that the _borustang_ still lived, and pondered what to do next. Suddenly it became clear what he had to do.

He dialed the phone hastily, and his father answered. "Dad, you've got to get one of the big sedans and a chauffeur you trust from the estate. One who knows about the Dzunis."

"Rhezu—"

"There's no time! You understand—a big sedan and a chauffeur in on the secret. Okay? And come with the chauffeur. I need your help."

"Yes, I understand, but—"

"No time to lose! Come to my apartment now. I'll explain later." He hung up the phone, and hastily threw on a pair of jeans and a stained t-shirt. Next he grabbed the cleanest linens and blankets he could find, and wrapped Tatara carefully. The next fifteen minutes crawled by, as Rhezu constantly rechecked the comatose man's vitals and awaited the intercom's buzz.

At last, a bewildered Khezuke and an equally bewildered chauffeur knocked on the door. "What's going on?" demanded Khezuke. He sniffed the air, and asked, "Is that blood I smell?"

"It's one of the younger Dzunis," responded Rhezu. "Something…awful happened." It hit him for the first time that he had no idea what had transpired. He pointed to the body, and both Khezuke and Asuron, the chauffeur, gaped. Khezuke rushed over, and looked in amazement at one of the lost Dzunis. He knew that this man wasn't his child, but each older Dzuni had come to feel the others' losses as though they were his or her own too.

"His name's Shoma Tatara," whispered Rhezu. "He's badly wounded in the gut. Um…he's still alive right now."

"Why didn't you call an ambulance, by the gods?" Khezuke glared at his son.

"No! His Dzuni spirit makes him self-healing, and a hospital would only foul everything up," hissed Rhezu desperately, willing his father to believe him. "I want to get Tatara back to the main estate, so his parents can be with him…" He didn't want to say "during his last moments." All three people fell quiet, and Asuron wrung his chauffeur's cap.

"Tatara will live," declared Rhezu in a firm voice, making the other two jump. "He will live! Dad, Asuron, we have to carry him down to the car." Rhezu did not give a moment's thought to how Seki might react, nor did he care. Seki no longer mattered.

Asuron proved a swift driver, and stopped right in front of the main house's entrance a mere ten minutes later. "Wait here, Rhezu, and let me get Haku," said Khezuke. "He can control the servants better than I can." He gripped Rhezu's arm for reassurance. An agonizing five minutes creeped by, then the family head burst through the door, followed by Khezuke and another trusted servant, a housekeeper. Haku poked his head inside the sedan, and his wet hair dripped onto the leather seat. Dark spots spread on his hastily tied hekasho—he'd come out of the shower. "Is that him?" he whispered, taking in Tatara sprawled across one row of seats.

"Yes," said Rhezu, squirming. He'd only spoken to Haku formally at family gatherings, and found the family head intimidating.

"We'll put him in the sickroom," decided Haku. The housekeeper ran in to prepare the room, and Rhezu helped Khezuke and Asuron carry Tatara inside. The sickroom, so called because Khosure, Lhurone and Khezuke had all recuperated from various Dzuni-related ills there, was conveniently located on the first floor near the entrance to the kitchens, and a brick fireplace occupied an entire wall.

The afternoon passed in a slow-motion blur for Rhezu. Hotohori, the Dzuni's scarlet dragon and now a doctor, arrived quickly and examined Tatara. She and Rhezu fought hard over whether to treat him, but eventually Hotohori grudgingly acquiesced to do nothing more other than place an IV line for hydration.

"What happened?" she asked, peering at the wound again.

"I don't know, it was while I was asleep," responded Rhezu, staring aimlessly at his coffee. The housekeeper gave it to him, maybe? He couldn't recall.

"You didn't hear anything?" asked Haku incredulously. "Wouldn't you have heard an intruder enter?" Against her husband's orders, Ashitare, the Dzuni monkey, had come into the room. Her demon Kidzi, currently in the form of a tiny marmoset, perched on her shoulder. Rhezu sensed that she would only be the first to come in to see one of the lost children. She hung behind her husband, hoping that the boy would live and guiltily grateful that he wasn't hers.

"This wound is so strange," huffed Hotohori. "Neither guns nor knives did this. It's as though different parts burst open at the same time. And most abdominal wounds don't just send a patient into a coma like this."

"Tatara's not the kind to cut himself up," murmured Rhezu, suddenly drifting into his police thinking. "There were no signs of a struggle, and if there had been one, I would've woken up. The door was never unlocked or forced open." Anger deepened his voice. "He must've have known the person. Seki did it. Seki would've been able to enter the room by magic and put me under a spell to keep me from interfering."

"What are you talking about?" asked Hotohori, staring at Rhezu in amazement.

A black cloud appeared at Tatara's feet, and the ghost wolf materialized. Rhezu was the only one who jumped—he'd never seen the phantom before—and nobody else looked surprised. Dzin-E sniffed the air once, and promptly declared, **"I smell flame tree blossoms on boy. Sakurazukamori try kill him."** Kidzi chittered in agreement.

"Who?" asked Ashitare.

"Then kill Seki," Haku commanded the wolf, "before he tries to kill the others!"

"**No."**

"What? Surely you can see for yourself what Seki's done!" Everyone swiveled their heads back towards Haku.

"**What I see is Sakurazukamori too weak to finish job properly." **The phantom scratched her ear. **"The gut popper one of Sezuko's favorite spells, and is easy spell. I remember it well. If done right the boy be dead now. He not dead, so Sezuko too weak to do spell right. That mean he not strong enough to hurt others now."**

Haku's mouth twitched. "Are you sure, Dzin-E? Because if anybody else gets attacked…"

"**I very sure. He is about to die. Next few days, I say." **The wolf dissipated into the air.

"What is going on, Haku? What was Dzin-E talking about?" demanded Khezuke.

"Oh, gods," sighed Haku, looking weary. He rubbed his face with hand, then gazed at the floor silently for a few seconds. "First I want to call Hatsuharu and Shuro, then we'll have an emergency Dzuni meeting later tonight. I'll explain everything I know about the Sakurazukamori then."

"I'll help call the others, darling," offered Ashitare. She and Haku began to walk for the door, and then he stopped and turned back to Rhezu. "And you? Would you be willing to tell us everything you know?"

"Sure, but I think people like Khoru understand what's going on better than I do," said Rhezu after some hesitation.

"Well, you're invited to the meeting." Haku smiled grimly. "I'd say you're very involved with the Dzuni now." Rhezu laughed weakly in agreement.

Time's passage became murkier as the afternoon dragged on. Rhezu left the main house before Tatara's real parents, Hatsuharu and Shuro, arrived. It was cowardly, he supposed, that he did not want to be nearby if Shuro screamed when she saw her son after all these years, only to have him on the brink of death. There were too many true stories of Shuro losing emotional control, and then shattering windows and injuring people with her powerful voice.

But Rhezu also wanted to make sure Beri knew. It might mean running into Seki, but he was prepared. He had a few things to say to that son of a bitch. Stopping his father's car, which he'd borrowed, Rhezu saw only lifelessness behind the teashop's windows. He knocked loudly on the front door before he finally saw a cloth flicker in the back. A person peered at him, and then stepped out—Zian. She ran to the door, and fiddled with the lock.

"I'm so glad you're here, Rhezu," she gasped breathlessly when the door yielded at last. The hyper-happiness in her voice betrayed her underlying nervousness. "Come on." She touched his arm, and he followed her through the stale passageway. When they emerged into Seki's living room, Lafidzi, Sira and her three panthers, and Seilieze all sat in the sofa and chairs. A flotilla of butterflies drifted about the room. The largest panther growled when Rhezu entered, but Sira silenced it.

"What's going on?" asked Rhezu. He'd never seen them all so jumpy.

"My jaguars insist that something happened with Seki, something bad," Sira said hushedly, eyes flickering around the room as if Seki might overhear. The jaguars ringed about her, determined to protect their master. They could not communicate verbally with Sira, but they could read each other's moods and actions perfectly

"My butterflies cannot find him anywhere inside this complex," said Seilieze.

"That's Seilieze, by the way," added Zian hastily. "This is Rhezu." They nodded curtly to each other, but it was no time for chit-chat.

"Something did happen," confirmed Rhezu. He thought, for a moment, of the best way to frame the news. "Seki seems to have attacked Tatara. He's still alive, but he's in a coma now." Shock replaced anxiety in the room instantly.

"But that can't be!" exclaimed Zian. "It makes no sense that Seki would try to kill Tatara!"

"Take my word for it, that's what happened," grunted Rhezu.

"That would explain why Yii tells me Seki's aura has diminished suddenly," said Sira, petting the elder jaguar's head. "He must've drained himself attacking Tatara."

"Look, you all ought to know that the ghost wolf—you know that Dzuni, right?—the ghost wolf said that Seki will die in the next few days," said Rhezu. He combed a hand through his hair. "I think you should go to the Shoma estate, so you can get food, anything else you need…" Dropping off, he shrugged. "Honestly, I don't think you need to worry about Seki getting angry anymore." The four girls looked at each other, waiting for one to make the first move. Lafidzi met Rhezu's eye, pointed at herself, then at the passageway, and nodded.

"You want to go? Fine. I'll drive people over there. Have any of you talked to Beri yet?"

"No, she has no idea what's happened," answered Sira. "You should tell her, Rhezu."

The trip down the winding staircase seemed much longer than usual, and Rhezu for once didn't mind the increasing cold. He had no clue how Beri would respond, and as he got closer to the medieval door, his frown grew more marked. When she saw him, she beamed and started to hug him, but Rhezu's dead expression stopped her.

"What happened?" she whispered. After he told her, she froze, her nails digging into his biceps painfully. He wrapped her in a fierce hug. "He'll live, he's too tough," said Rhezu, kissing her silky hair. Pulling her off slightly, he looked into her face. "Listen to me, Beri. There's a freezer at the main house almost as big as your bedroom. I can ask the maids to move the food so you can stay in it and be close to Tatara." Not even her eyelash twitched, and he had to hope she was paying attention. "I'll come pick you up around midnight—the temperature outside should be colder by then. Okay? Beri?" No response. "Beri? Will that be all right?" Her head bobbed numbly, and Rhezu interpreted that as yes. "Go lie down, and just take it easy 'til I come back tonight."

Later, when Rhezu had gone, Beri sat on the edge of her bed. She stared at the crystal wall facing her, and saw her reflection. Her eyelids flickered open, and for the first time, she could see her chestnut brown eyes. They were the same color as her mother's, of whom she was supposed to be the exact opposite. Her eyes, grieved yet perfectly dry, stared into the reflection, and across town, Shuro sobbed freely at her son's bedside.


	19. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: I don't own TB, FB, PSOH, or anything else you recognize.

**Chapter 18**—_Zi Alda, Ten Years Ago_

Somewhere over the sea, Tatara fainted and didn't wake up again until he was back home. Strelyba, a sleepy town on the banks of the Lestara River, which ran all the way west to Zi Alda's great port city, Zostu. Tatara spent his first thirteen years in Strelyba, deep inland and close to the river's source in the eastern hill country. His adoptive family served a middle-class family called the Brusdinas. The Brusdinas were full humans.

Here was how society worked in Zi Alda. Two distinct groups lived side-by-side: the humans and the _borustange_. The humans possessed the wealth and ran Zi Alda, and the _borustange_ worked as servants for upper- and middle-class human families. Butlers, maids, drivers, gardeners, repairmen, nannies—the _borustange_ acted as all of these, but primarily they were guards. Their sharp senses and alertness made them invaluable in that function, since blood feuds touched almost every human family at some point. The wealthier and more powerful a human family, the better their _borustange_ guards were. The quality of _borustange_ bodyguards had often determined whether a family head survived or not. Human men in Zi Alda, especially in upper-tier classes, tended not to live very long.

Years after Tatara came to Hoth, a debate would eventually brew about whether or not the _borustange_ had actually been slaves. Tatara would argue no, because they received wages for their services, and a strict code operated to maintain proper relations with _borustange_. The rules were fairly basic for Zi Aldans: first, the _borustang_ had to want to serve the family of its own free will, and secondly, if any gross violation were committed against a _borustang_ by a human, the former reserved the right to kill the person. Such violations would include attempted murder or rape.

An ancient legend from the hill country permitted the borustange to claim the second privilege. The story went as thus: the humans had once been animals, graced to live in the Deity's presence. Then a group of twelve animals became too ambitious and tried to take over the paradise for themselves. Disgraced, they were banished to the lowlands, where they lost their animal forms and turned into hairless, weak creatures called humans. The Deity wished to send some animals to look after the humans, and make sure that they didn't get into any more mischief. The _borustange_ volunteered, and thus became the humans' guards.

The _borustange_ considered themselves better than humans, who had a propensity towards violence. As a result, only the most grievous crimes called for retaliation against humans, because the _borustange_ didn't want to sink as low as humans. They kept themselves out of commerce, banking, and government. The humans could have those; the study of discipline and loyalty to the family mattered much more to the _borustange_.

Tatara had a normal childhood and upbringing. His adoptive parents taught him how to best guard an estate, how to fight against attackers while defending his human family, and never to steal, cheat, or commit murder—three offenses that _borustange _found equally offensive. If a _borustang_ were ever guilty of one of these crimes, he or she would be outcast into human society. To drive their point home, parents would tell their offspring tragic stories of _borustange_ whose upper earlobes were cut off, and were forced to work as cashiers or trashmen in the big cities, where everyone could see their shame.

From the beginning, Tatara's parents noticed his unusual attributes. His body's ability to heal itself alarmed them at first, but they grew to view it as an ability that made Tatara an extraordinary _borustang_. A guard who could recover easily from wounds would be advantageous to another, more powerful family, perhaps. His father hoped to move to another family someday.

"Alvar Brusdina is becoming dissolute," Tatara once overheard his father, Stuzveny, tell his mother, Rylde. "I've heard that he's developed…unusual carnal tastes. The other _borustange_ in the village are starting to whisper about this house. It will do our family little good to stay with such trash for much longer. If Tatara can mate with a girl from a respectable _borustang_ clan…" This was shortly before the incident occurred, and Tatara would not recall this conversation until much later, when he was on the run from humans. At the moment, though, he was too busy watching the Brusdinas' two youngest sons, both hellions. Tatara had no siblings of his own, but the little boys never made him long for any.

The adult Tatara had returned to the world of thirteen-year-old Tatara. At this point in time, the trees, pastures, and gardens possessed the fresh smell of spring, and greenery sprouted everywhere. The Brusdina house, a respectable two-story structure made from plaster and wood, looked fresher than it had during the winter, when it seemed to sag under the snow. The winters and summers were always worse inland than along the coast, where the sea currents helped moderate the climate.

One day, when Mrs. Brusdina had taken the boys to play with some friends, Tatara milled around the house. The scent of baking bread wafted through the rooms from the kitchen, where Rylde prepared the daily meals. Stuzveny wrestled the weeds in the back yard's flower beds.

Tatara trotted up the creaky stairs to the second floor. There was a little alcove that overlooked the main street. He liked to watch the people passing by during the day—it gave him the feeling of protecting the house from a watchtower. At nighttime, when no one was out, he would look at the stars instead. Strelyba was small enough to allow the universe to glow in the night sky. The trick lay in finding a clear enough glade among the trees so one could see the stars.

Today he watched the human children play soccer, moving to the sidewalk whenever a car had to pass. When he grew bored with that, he turned his attention to the house diagonally across the street from his. He knew the _borustang_ family that lived there—they had a girl his age. It occurred to him for the first time that he might start courting someone in a few years. He shrugged the thought away.

"Springtime makes you think new things, eh?" a slurred voice laughed from behind, causing Tatara to whip his head around. Alvar Brusdina leaned his stringy body against the doorframe.

"Good afternoon," said Tatara politely, wishing that Mr. Brusdina would just leave and sleep off his drunkenness.

"Thinking about a pretty _boru _girl, maybe?" Alvar stumbled as he stepped towards the alcove. Tatara froze. "The girl in the house yonder, she might make a good bang for you."

"Sir, I think that you should get some rest," suggested Tatara stiffly, swallowing his choler. He got off the cushion, and offered his arm to Alvar. The drunk man laughed loudly, and leaned on the boy. "But you'll need to loosen up, Tatara," he said, winking. "You're a sourpuss even by _boru_ standards. Might turn her off."

"I'll work on it, sir." Best to humor him in this state. Tatara guided him to the queen-sized bed. Alvar grunted and crashed heavily onto the bed. The little boy helped lift his master's legs one by one onto the mattress, and rearranged the pillows. As he turned to go, Alvar grabbed his thin arm.

"Just a moment, boy." The master forced Tatara back towards the bed. "I can help you practice." Dumbfounded, Tatara could only stared as Alvar hugged him to his chest. A grubby hand, callused from years of hard work, reached around and fondled Tatara's privates. The _borustang_ shivered and broke in a chilly sweat. "Be quiet, that's a good boy," whispered Alvar.

Tatara remained silent, unable to process what was happening, until he felt something hard press against the small of his back. "No!" he shrieked. "No!" He wrenched himself out of Alvar's tight grip.

"You little shit!" A poorly aimed fist glanced off Tatara's head, and Tatara swung his arms wildly, claws unsheathed. Two of his fingers caught something warm during the scuffle. When Tatara opened his eyes again, Alvar Brusdina lay on the floor, his neck slashed and blood pouring into a widening puddle.

_Lhasa, Wednesday Morning_

The empty mugs sat on the coffee table, taunting Sharlen, who looked at them wordlessly. The mugs that had made them both lose control. The steady trail of discarded clothing that led to Halina's bed. Well, he was wearing his hekasho again now, but her clothes remained forgotten. The maniacal sex induced by the drug had pushed the sheets off the bed entirely, and Halina still slept spreadeagled. Sharlen himself felt exhausted, and he decided to shower. There was no way that he could hide this from Dhuzel and Setu, and it would be better if he didn't smell too much like Halina when they found out. He groaned. He'd be lucky to have all his body parts left. Particularly since Dhuzel remained emotionally fragile from Seilieze's trick with the butterflies. Halina had been talking to him patiently, helping him recover. And then he'd find out she had slept with Sharlen in the meanwhile.

Sharlen glanced out the window and saw it was daylight. What day was it, even? He realized he had no idea. A cheap clock next to him said 9:24. Its ticking helped settle his thoughts into an organized march. Half an hour later, he picked up the phone and dialed.

"Hello?" A familiar bass voice answered.

"Dhuzel, it's Sharlen."

"Where have you been? Seki attacked Tatara, and he's at the main estate!" The agitation carried over the phone line perfectly.

"What?" Sharlen felt like a cannonball hit him in the stomach. "Seki attacked Tatara?" he repeaded stupidly.

"That's what it sounds like. That policeman took Tatara to the main estate. Where all the other Dzuni are," added Dhuzel hushedly. "Now they know. Our…parents…know about us now."

"Is Tatara still alive?"

"He's hanging in there," answered Dhuzel. "But just barely. You should go to the estate. Ehh…Setu and I haven't gone yet. Zian, Lafi, and Beri are at the estate."

"They went to the estate?" Too much was happening all at once. Sharlen had to resist hyperventilating.

"Yeah. The policeman convinced them to go."

"Nothing from Seki?"

"No. We've neither seen nor heard from him. The Dzuni demons over at the estate think he's about to die, or possibly dead already." Sharlen dropped the phone slightly, gazing at the wall. "Sharlen? You there?"

"Yes. Have you seen Khureno yet?"

"No. I don't know if Sheleru's tried to get him or not."

The restraining spell on Khureno probably still worked then, reasoned Sharlen. "Look, I'll meet you at the hotel as soon as I can, okay?"

"Fine, Sharlen. Please hurry."

The phone clicked back into its receiver, and Sharlen cursed, realizing he completely forgot to tell Dhuzel about the potion and Halina. Well, it would have to wait. First he wanted to make sure Halina was unharmed. He stood over her prone body, wincing at the nick marks around her neck. He'd been rough with his fangs, clearly. Gripping her shoulders, he shook her. "Halina! Wake up!" Her body hung limply, and she did not awaken. Sharlen felt a strong pulse in her neck, and her chest rose and fell steadily. He leaned by her ear and screamed, "Halina! Halina!" An impenetrable sleep had gripped her in its iron talons.


	20. Chapter 19

Disclaimer: I don't own TB, FB, PSOH, or anything else you recognize.

**Chapter 19**—_Zi Alda, Ten Years Ago_

When news of Alvar Brusdina's death leaked into the open, the house suddenly became marked. The neighbors, human and _borustang_ alike, glanced at it sideways while running their errands. Stuzveny and Rylde kept Tatara inside, which he didn't understand at first.

Lately, Strelyba's adult _borustange_ had been whispering disturbing gossip from the capital city, Daza. A new police commission was elected two months ago, one who held harsh views of the _borustang_ culture. Ten years ago, the news that Tatara had killed a master who'd molested him would have been accepted by the community. Everybody knew about Alvar Brusdina's unhealthy interest in young boys, and everybody condemned it. Tatara thought that attitude still prevailed; thus why he couldn't understand the changes.

The humans' eyes carried a smoldering resentment when they looked at the Brusdina house, and the _borustange_ clung tighter to their children's hands, their eyes darting from side to side with fear. Stuzveny and his family hid in their small bungalow more often, because Mrs. Brusdina no longer trusted them. The boys called Tatara a murderer. "You'll be punished," one of them chanted at him, "Chop, chop 'em off!" He made a slicing motion by the side of his head, and Tatara ran home at that point.

He remembered little about the special forces' entry a few days later, the door's hinges cracking as men in black uniforms rammed their way inside the small bungalow. Gun barrels pointed at his parents' throats, and one soldier thrust a rag soaked in a formaldehyde-like liquid into Tatara's face. They kept him chloroformed until he woke up in a town three times Strelyba's size, and three hundred miles down the Lestara river.

_Thursday_

Zian huddled in a guest room inside the Shoma mansion. She still wore the same clothes from yesterday, and she could tell they were getting gamey. But none of her things were here yet. No Hot Ice posters on the wall, no purple bedsheets with crisscrossing pink and blue lines, no favorite stuffed fox that she'd had from the beginning. She and Lafi had been too flustered when Rhezu gave them a ride here. Well, Zian had been, anyway—it was hard to tell with Lafi sometimes.

Sleeping in a strange bed, she'd discovered the night before, was a challenge. This mansion mattress didn't have the familiar kinks that conformed to her body. The shadows bent differently on the walls. And to compound her troubles, her mind would not shut up. It tried to rationalize Seki's attack on Tatara. It tried to process that among the older Dzuni in the house, two were her parents. Her real parents. Niggling voices fretted about Sharlen's whereabouts—none of the three maneaters had been heard from yet—and Seki's whereabouts, too. He could still be loose. Might he come after them?

Late, late last night there was a meeting of the elder Dzuni. Zian eavesdropped, since her room was right above Haku's parlor, but blurred yelling and murmuring was all she could hear. The carpeting was too-high quality for many sounds to squeeze through.

Zian estimated that she had maybe five hours of real sleep at the most.

She hurriedly stood up and pushed the door hard, almost smacking it into a passing servant. It was too lonely in that room, and the four empty walls seemed to amplify her confusion and fright. Zian wanted to be around others just as confused and scared; besides, Lafi's serenity always calmed her. What had Seki once said? Misery desires company. But Seki had tried to murder Tatara, or so Rhezu said, and upset everyone.

The house's many corridors quickly derailed her from her mission, which was to reach the sickroom. All the Dzuni seemed to be downstairs; Zian could hear the chatter. Eventually she found the right corridor, and tiptoed down the staircase.

"Oh, there's one of them," a maid remarked to another as Zian edged towards the stairs' foot. The entrance hall was empty otherwise; obviously the Dzuni were either in the sickroom, the parlor, or the mysterious banquet hall that Zian had yet to see. "Good day, ma'am, how may I help you?" The obliging smile irritated Zian because she knew they were using it as an excuse to gawk at her hair.

Before Zian could make a snappy observation about the younger maid's visible hickeys, Sheleru called to her. "Hi, Zian! I was just about to get you." The smile looked strained to Zian. Wending her arm through Zian's, Sheleru deftly pulled her away from the maids and whispered, "I need your help. Setu came in this morning and had an accident. He snuck into the gardens and surprised some gardeners. Now he's sick, but he keeps babbling in Tsaavan and none of us know how to speak it."

Sharlen had taught Zian the language when she was little. Sheleru led her into the parlor, where Setu lay sweating on a long sofa. Haku, the doctor, Lafidzi and a blonde woman holding a cream-colored rabbit in her arms turned their heads as the two girls entered. Zian breathed in sharply. She knew from her older brother that Haku was her father, but it seemed strange to finally speak to him now. Aside from Hatsuharu and Shuro, none of the older Dzuni had found out which children were theirs yet, and they were wild with yearning. Zian didn't feel like talking, Rhezu didn't know enough, and Sheleru avoided rushing Zian.

"Sorry, I haven't had a chance to shower yet," said Zian, giggling. The adults smiled, not to worry. The blonde woman's name flashed into Zian's head—Rhosu, the Dzuni rabbit. The bunny was her demon, Laren. Walking past Haku and avoiding eye contact, she bent over Setu. He'd been wrapped in a thick quilt, and a hint of vomit soured the air. His half-platinum, half-black hair stuck to his head, wet with sweat.

"Setu," said Zian in Tsaavan. "Setu." The illness made his eyes appear too incandescent. "It's me, Zian. Remember me, Sharlen's little sister?"

"Of…course," he croaked. "I…ought to have known better than to bite those servants. I panicked. This place is full of Shomas."

"Well, it is called the Shoma estate, dummy," laughed Zian. Setu rolled his eyes.

"But why did you come here?"

The maneater blinked, and groaned. Invisible nails seemed to be piercing his stomach. "Halina drank a potion made by Seki. She's been asleep for almost three days now, and she won't wake up." He looked up at Zian, his face twisted with pain and worry. "Dhuzel is with them at Halina's apartment. The drug..." Tears shone in his eyes. "The drug made Sharlen and Halina lose control…"

Zian broke in hastily. "You don't have to tell me more." Poor Sharlen! She'd sensed his tormented feelings for Halina, and now this. "Are you and Dhuzel angry with him?" she asked softly.

"It was the drug," repeated Setu. "The drug. But if we ever see Seki--" He gasped, and lurched for the wastebasket next to his sofa. Zian turned away until he finished vomiting, and didn't heed the other spectators' questioning looks. "We agreed," wheezed Setu, "that I would come here and get someone to help Halina."

"Ok, hope you get better soon. I'll tell them." Crossing her arms, she sighed and walked to the group waiting across the room.

"What did Setu say?" asked Haku gently, wishing the girl would look him in the face.

"Halina drank a potion that Seki made, and she's been asleep for almost three days now. Setu was here to get help for her. The other man—"

"No! They don't know yet!" blurted Sheleru.

"We don't know what?" snapped Hotohori. "What else is there that you haven't told us?"

"Tori, back off," warned Haku with a severe look. "It's not Sheleru's fault that Seki threatened her." The relationship between Hotohori and her daughter had been tenuous recently, with the trouble over the lost Dzuni.

"Ooh," breathed Zian, realizing what the alarm concerned. The older Dzuni must not know about the three maneating Dzuni spirits yet. She caught the demon bunny's eye, and the bunny nodded somewhat shamefacedly.

"I will explain to them," said Laren to Zian. "We older demons didn't want to tell them, so it's our fault they don't know. You get a chauffeur, and help them. I'll take care of it."

"Explain what?" demanded Haku. Zian left in a hurry, glad she would miss what would certainly be a magnificent show of yelling. "Be sure to tell them why Setu is sick," she added, and shut the door. Resting against the wood, Zian tried to clear her mind and failed miserably. She went out the front to find a chauffeur.

_Zi Alda_

A speaking platform bisected Tiryns's public market, where the special corps escorted Tatara after he regained consciousness. Iron shackles bound his arms and legs tightly, so two soldiers had to carry him. The humiliation of a _borustang_ being dragged in the dirt before a jeering mob made his eyes sting with tears.

They hauled him up to the platform, and the soldiers stood by his sides as the new police commissioner delivered a lengthy oration to the crowd. "This creature here exemplifies all the problems within Zi Alda," yelled Hugraz Shandilar, pointing to Tatara. Shandilar's slicked back hair and simple suit, with only a humble badge to indicate his position, made Tatara's dirt-streaked clothes and skin look more pathetic. "For too long," continued Shandilar, "we have been slaves to these aliens. We have allowed them to murder our relatives for the smallest offenses. Nay, for imagined offenses!" The crowd roared. "Surely no Deity, powerful as it could be, would intend for humans to be inferior to animals. But now, now we shall take full control of our families, our lives, and our country! I, Hugraz Shandilar, Security Commissioner of Zi Alda, will personally see that these _things_ understand their proper place in our country!" A knife's blade caught the sun and flashed as Shandilar flourished it. Tatara stared at it, willing himself to wake from the nightmare. Humans bobbed in the croswd; no _borustange _were to be seen anywhere.

The soldiers hustled Tatara forward, and his shoes scraped against the platform. The commissioner's horse face came into sharp relief before Tatara's eyes, and the disdainful expression was all he could see; the crowd and market stalls blurred like a roiling sea.

Shandilar gripped Tatara's right ear firmly, and his spine stiffened as he felt the blade's first bite into his lobe. The warm blood running down his neck and shoulder distracted him from the searing pain. He did not scream; he gritted his teeth and tensed every muscle. He would not give that man the satisfaction of breaking. When the knife finished sawing the top half of Tatara's right ear off, Shandilar moved to the left without delay and repeated it.

At the end, the shackles came off and Tatara wobbled on his feet. The discarded lobes, almost mangled beyond recognition, lay on the platform. Shandilar and the soldiers glared contemptuously at him, and he understood. He had to leave. A rotten apple bounced off his back as he turned; the audience was starting to throw trash now.

The bottom step tripped him and he fell flat onto the asphalt. Tatara scrambled back up and darted into an alleyway. "Hey, you! Get back here so we can play some more!" jeered a boy, leading a gang. Luckily, his natural healing mechanism had already closed his wounds, so Tatara was able to keep running through alleys until he reached the outskirts of Tiryns.

He paused to rest in a cluster of trash cans. The sun would sink below the horizon soon. His nose detected the smell of wheat, and a prompt search yielded an almost-fresh loaf that a townsperson had foolishly tossed. Tatara ate ravenously. The bread settled his stomach, but he still had nowhere to go. He was an outcast now.

A shadow flickered, and he dived soundlessly behind a dumpster. Rustling, then a black-robed figure moved into Tatara's vision. A hand with the long, tapered fingers of a _borustang_, appeared from one of the sleeves to secure the hood. The figure glanced in every direction, and then the hood peered towards Tatara's dumpster.

"_Presjo_," whispered the figure, using the greeting _borustange_ reserved only for each other. "If you're listening, kid, you must get out of Tiryns now if you want to live. They've started murdering all the _borustange_ in the east, and the killing will spread west. Get into the forest—it'll give you better cover. Follow the Lestara river west to Zostu. Your only chance is to get on a ship to Hoth or Gogotha. Hurry, and good luck. Hurry!" The figure scurried away, fading into the twilight.

Tatara froze in the smelly shadows, and wondered if his parents had already been killed. He remembered the guns pointed in their faces. He shook his heads and took the unknown _borustang_'s advice—he ran into the forest.

_Lhasa, Thursday Night_

"Damn," muttered Hotohori, looking at the thermometer's reading.

"What is it?" asked Hatsuharu, growing more worried since Hotohori discovered a thin trail of pus oozing from Tatara's wound minutes ago. Shuro slept on another couch nearby; she'd finally collapsed after a day and a half without sleep.

"He's got peritonitis," sighed Hotohori. She wondered aloud: "Should I give him antibiotics?"

"But the wound's healing well, hasn't it?" Already the main gash appeared halfway closed.

"Yes, Hatsuharu, it has." Hotohori sat down heavily next to her old friend. Both felt like they'd aged twenty years in the last two days. "His body has done an amazing job so far, and I don't want to interfere. I'll watch him, and if his temperature gets too high, I'll start the meds. For now I'll just change his dressings frequently." They remained contemplative for several long minutes. "I should check on Halina, Setu, and Setu's bite victims." The last few words made them chuckle. Hatsuharu waved her off with a "Take care of yourself, Tori." During the next hour, Hatsuharu dozed on and off next to his comatose son.

"Hara." A tapping on his shoulder snapped Hatsuharu awake. Snorting once, he twisted around and saw Khosure towering above him. The basilisk, married to Hotohori, had not become stooped over time, and still wore grand hekashos. Tonight was a relatively somber one—dark blue. A tray of hot cocoa rested in his hands.

"I just stopped by to check on Tori and to take Sheleru home," said Khosure. "I think Shel needs some rest from the Shoma estate, and it'd be impossible for me to drag the good doctor away from her duties. But first I thought I'd feed you some liquid chocolate glory."

Hatsuharu took a steaming mug gratefully, and Khosure set the tray on the coffee table. His long silvery plait nearly dropped into one of the mugs, and he caught it in time. "Oops, close call," Khosure remarked, flipping it back. He was about to ask how Tatara was when he started and squinted his golden eyes. "What's that, Hara?" he asked, pointing to Tatara's head.

At first Hatsuharu could see nothing strange. Then the oddity became visible: a jagged ridge of flesh poking through Tatara's purple hair. With one swift movement, he parted the hair to reveal an ear missing its upper lobe. "Gods," gasped Khosure. "Did he have a freak accident?" Hatsuharu looked at the other ear, and his face paled.

"No, Kho, I doubt that it was an accident." Ear cutting was standard procedure in Zi Alda for branding criminals, Hatsuharu knew. Both ears sliced for murder, rape, or arson; only one ear for lesser crimes. But Beri had already told Hatsuharu and Shuro that Tatara came from Zi Alda to Hoth ten years ago. Petitions had been flooding Hatsuharu's office from _borustang_ refugees asking him to pressure Zi Alda for reparations. To back their accusations of genocide, the _borustange_ had provided detailed chronologies and testimony. Hatsuharu remembered reading that ear cutting on flimsy premises preceded random murder of any and all _borustange_ unlucky enough to be captured by humans.

There was one other problem. Hatsuharu was now familiar enough with _borustange_ culture to know that they considered ear cutting an unspeakable disgrace. A "cut" _borustange_ would essentially exile himself or herself from her community, and feel too tainted to face his or her own relatives again. They frequently committed suicide. If—when Tatara recovered, Hatsuharu and Shuro would have to tread carefully to get Tatara to overcome the stigma. Hatsuharu groaned. "Hara?" asked Khosure, concerned.

Hatsuharu flicked his hand impatiently. "It's fine." The bull just wanted his son to live. The rest could wait.


	21. Chapter 20

Disclaimer: I don't own TB, FB, PSOH, or anything else you recognize.

**Chapter 20**—_Zi Alda_

Around Strelyba a child could easily throw a ball across the Lestara. Outsiders always had trouble believing that the overlarge creek flowing sluggishly past the town was the mighty Lestara River, vital to Zi Alda's fortunes for so long. The "overlarge creek" wound through the land until Tiryns. Then the banks drifted further and further apart, the river floor dropped, and the currents strengthened. It was in this part of the river where many unfortunate swimmers had drowned, underestimating the deceptively strong currents under the river's placid surface.

Tatara had little trouble finding the nearly-mile wide river that bordered Tiryns's forest. Since his animal form, not yet full-size, could move much faster and more silently than his human form, he retained it for his journey to Zostu. The port lay five hundred miles away—a month's journey if a person walked twenty miles a day. Tatara flew low over the treetops and covered more than half the length in just two nights. Dodging the river towns and hiding from forest patrols and airplanes slowed him down. He'd also strapped his folded clothes to his back with a belt; he might need them when he returned to human form even if they were bloodstained and grimy.

He rested and hid during the day. At this time, he already required only an hour of sleep, which allowed him to watch for pursuers easily. Stuzveny had taught him which plants, roots, and fruits were edible in the forests. Berries and _yldeba_ root, which contained water reservoirs, formed the brunt of Tatara's diet. In his animal form, Tatara could also eat small game, such as rabbits or rodents. Such catches were rare, however, since he had little experience catching fleeing prey. The second day, his hunger pangs made him long for raspberry tarts, his mother's specialty. Then he remembered that even if his parents were alive, he couldn't face them again. He got up and walked through the forest, safely getting past Daza. Less than two hundred miles separated him from Zostu when night fell.

It was here, near Daza, when he saw that the hooded borustange's predictions had come true. Just as he prepared to take off for his nightly flight, his nose caught the scent of rot. Tatara followed the scent, taking care to conceal himself in the underbrush, and detected a clearing ahead in the trees. The odor grew more powerful, and as he peered through the bushes, his heart stopped momentarily.

Bodies, stacked like firewood—_borustange_ of all ages. Time seemed to suspend itself as the image burned itself deeper in Tatara's mind, and he vainly willed it to not be true. The bullet holes in the nearby trees stood out to his sharp eyes like snowflakes against black paper. Whimpers escaped from him.

"Hear that?" hollered a rough voice. "Some of 'em are still alive." Tatara froze, listening.

"Well, finish them off," ordered a tired-sounding man. "Crikey!" The sounds came from his right, and he bolted to the left, his legs awkwardly pumping over the uneven ground. Running feet soon followed—Tatara didn't care that he was snapping every twig and ruffling every leaf. The whirring of a helicopter sounded overhead, meaning he couldn't fly.

He ran, just managing to outrun the men despite his animal legs not being built for galloping like a horse. Unknowingly, Tatara edged closer and closer to the Lestara's northern banks. The men still chased him, and one took potshots as they ran. A bullet whooshed right by Tatara's left flank, and he forced his legs to pump harder.

His front claws hit lime-covered rock, and he plunged over the bank's edge. Pain shot through him as he rolled down the steep slope. Crashing onto his side, Tatara shook his head and saw that he'd landed on a flat boulder a few inches under the river surface. The water pushed and sucked at him as it heaved. Footsteps—the men were about to reach the river's edge. Tatara scrabbled towards the wall, and suddenly the night sky disappeared. Alarmed, he reached up with a foreleg, and soil clods rained down onto him. He'd rolled into an earthen overhang carved by the river.

"Fell into the river," he heard one of the men pronounce faintly from above. "See his feathers? I don't think we have to worry about him anymore." Laughter. "I'm ready to sleep, myself," said another man, as their footsteps receded.

Tatara saw several of his wing feathers swirling in the water. A violent crashing resounded through the air, and he realized that he must be near the foot of Belikan Falls. It explained why the water was unusually rough here. Shifting his body, pain ricocheted up and down his left hind. Probably broken bones, and damaged wing feathers. He'd have to rest and let them mend. As long as the overhang held, it should shield him from _borustang_ hunters. He slept for the next night and day, letting his body heal. The glade of bodies kept reappearing in his dreams, though.

_Lhasa, Early Friday Morning_

Rhezu snored, the first sound slumber he'd had in three days. Khezuke kept his oldest son's room ready, just in case he needed it. The digital clock next to Rhezu's bed read 6:13 A.M.—five minutes too slow. Hazy goldenrod and pink rays peeked over the sea's horizon in the east, heralding the sun's arrival. The Shoma estate buildings' windows were dark, except for the main house's kitchen and sickroom. Hotohori, eyes bloodshot, continued to watch over Tatara, who fretted and mumbled in his bed.

Dead bodies did not plague Rhezu's dreams, however. He was back in Beri's apartment, making love to her on the _murin_ furs. Then the bed lurched violently, and shook up and down. Beri clung to Rhezu, who groped for his gun, forgetting that he was completely naked. A dark column of smoke emerged from under the bed's foot, and moonarrow root's perfume stung their noses. Beri started screaming shrilly before the smoky column revealed a pale, inscrutable face. The killer's look, which Rhezu had witnessed once before on his first visit to the teashop, made Seki's eyes gleam. An arm materialized out of the smoke, and it pointed to Rhezu. "Seki! NOOO!" he bellowed, writhing as ice crystals filled his veins.

"Rhezu!" called Khezuke, shaking his panicked son roughly by the shoulders. Rhezu's eyes snapped open, and it took him a moment to process Khezuke standing over him. Kedi sobbed in the background. "Oh, I'm alive," panted Rhezu.

"Did you see Seki?" hissed Khezuke, fearful.

"No. Just a very bad nightmare." Still feeling cold from the dream, Rhezu stared about his room. Then he noticed that his reading lamp had fallen to the ground, and several drawer doors hung half-open, shimmied by something. "What happened?"

"Earthquake. But it seems to have stopped," said Khezuke. "Come here, Kedi, it'll be all right." He bent down to envelope his little boy in his massive body.

"Rhezu," sniffled Kedi, "do you think _she_ caused this earthquake?"

Honlon. "My Gods," exclaimed Rhezu, rushing out of the bed. He hadn't even thought to check on her the last few days. His gut told him that something was seriously wrong for Honlon to cause an earthquake at this hour.

"Where are you going?" called Khezuke as Rhezu flew down the stairs and out of the boar's house. Khezuke made it to the front door in time to see Rhezu disappear through the main house's door. The butler stood bewildered and blinking on the threshold.

Going through the kitchens, Rhezu threatened to kill any servant who followed him. The cooks and maids stayed put, not daring to go near the madman. He rushed down the dark stairs into the storerooms. After three wrong turns, he finally reached the dead end that hid the secret passageway to Honlon's apartment. He pressed his hands against every inch of the wall, swearing violently when it refused to give. Then he saw the small, round pebble set against the wall, and stepped on it with all his weight. The door opened at last, too slowly for him. He ran past the peeling walls to the great double doors.

"Honlon!" he yelled, banging on the wood. "Honlon! Are you all right? It's me, Rhezu! Your older brother!" Hearing no response, he lifted the golden latch, and the door creaked. He could see Honlon's form seated on the dais, in front of the gigantic throne. More softly this time, he called, "Honlon?" Rhezu walked towards the girl, who remained unresponsive and unmoving.

As he got closer, he could see that she had retreated into herself. If he beheaded himself right now, he suspected, she wouldn't notice. Her clothes smelled, and she hadn't bathed or showered in a few days. Squatting in front of Honlon, Rhezu cautiously touched her arm. "Honlon? Did something happen?" He couldn't tell from her dead face which personality was in control. Rhezu repeated his question, and shook her hand gently. Finally her eyelashes flickered, and she focused on him.

"It's me, Rhezu," he said, smiling encouragingly. "What's wrong?"

Honlon's chapped lips parted, but no sound emerged.

"It's okay. I'm here now." Rhezu sat down next to her on the dais, and put his arm around her.

A wild wail echoed through the vast chamber, and Honlon buried her face in Rhezu's shoulder. He guessed that Dzore, the youngest personality, had come out. "Khagame's really mad," sobbed Dzore, "and I can't find Horiko." She raised her face, chin quivering.

"What do you mean, you can't find Horiko?"

"She won't talk," gasped Dzore. "O-on Tuesday, Ho-Horiko couldn't find Shurunu, and went to look for her. Khagame a-and I haven't heard from her. I-I think…" A new spate of wailing began.

"Shurunu died?" whispered Rhezu.

When the earthquake began, Dhuzel left his guest room in the main house and rushed to Halina's room. Hotohori had said that there was nothing they could do except wait for her to wake up from her drugged sleep. Sharlen also suffered the potion's effects still; he had frequent concentration lapses and could barely stay awake during the night—a bad sign for a Dzuni that operated during nighttime. Dhuzel shoved the door open. Rumpled bedclothes, an overturned floor lamp, and several books lying helplessly splayed on the floor. No Halina anywhere. "Oh, no," moaned Setu, who'd come from behind Dhuzel. "Wait," added Setu, sniffing the air. "Her scent—it's still fresh."

Setu, who had the keener nose of the two, tracked Halina through the corridor and down the stairs, and then out into the gardens. The plants became fiercer and more overgrown as they continued on the path, and her scent grew stronger. Dhuzel collided into Setu when the other suddenly startled and stopped. "What's wrong?" sputtered the lion. The rising sun silhouetted Old Blood's branches exquisitely, like a black cobweb.

"Gods," sighed Setu. "I thought that was blood, but it's not." Dhuzel edged beside Setu on the path, and saw the scarlet blossom sitting in the middle of their path. It was the dark red type unique to Old Blood. "Didn't you tell me that the trees bloom until the winter starts?" Setu asked Dhuzel. "Should Old Blood be dropping flowers already?" Dhuzel clenched his jaw, and strode down the path.

More and more flame tree blossoms littered the path, until they formed a carpet that cushioned the maneaters' footfalls. Dhuzel and Setu stopped when they were within ten feet of Old Blood, and gaped at the scene before them. A mound of blossoms covered Old Blood's roots and trunks, and Halina, asleep, sat up against the mound. Fresh blood was spattered over her nightgown, especially her torso and hands. The dawn air had only just started cooling the blood.

"Halina!" Dhuzel hefted her off the mound and carried her away from the tree, whose branches had been completely stripped of flowers. When they reached the back patio, Dhuzel set Halina on the floor and searched her for wounds. There were none.

"This is not Halina's blood," murmured Setu, rubbing some between his finger and thumb. "It's somebody else's."

"Seki. This blood belongs to Seki," said Dhuzel, looking at Halina's grotesquely smeared body with a sort of horrified fascination. "Did she kill Seki?" Setu shook off his robe and wrapped Halina inside it.

_Zi Alda_

The killing spread in Zi Alda as if someone had thrown a match on a gasoline trail that stretched from the eastern hills to the western coast. Ten days after his harrowing close escape near Belikan Falls, Tatara snuck into Zostu's outskirts. By then, the _borustang_ neighborhoods had burned for two days, and some fires continued to rage unabated and even spilled into human streets. There weren't many bodies left lying around, because the fires ate them.

In a dream state, Tatara snaked his way around the fires and murderous mobs to the port, where he found more of the same chaos that hounded the outskirts. Several wooden warehouses stood next to moldy piers no longer used, and someone had torched one. The blaze played hopscotch, passing from one warehouse to the next. The harbor waters glowed red and orange. The meaning of Zostu's name, "light of the sea," literally came to life.

From the ruins of a burnt-out building, Tatara observed the harbor closely. Only two ships remained, a Hothan cargo carrier and a large industrial tanker from Gogotha, and their crews were preparing to leave in a hurry. He had to move quickly to stow aboard without getting caught.

A rustling caused him to duck further down a wall, and he glanced backwards. A _borustang_ girl, no older than seven, watched him with wide black eyes. Her hair shone blue, an unusual color for their kind, through the ashy streaks. Tatara sensed no one else nearby, and from the girl's shocked expression, he guessed that her family had probably perished.

The water splashed as the Gogothan ship's sailors cast off its moorings, and the ship pushed steadily away from its dock. Only one ship left. The Hothan sailors carted packing crates onto the boat with a desperate speed. Tatara, looking at the boat, knew that he had to run now, or he would miss it. He could already hear the boat's engine humming. The nearest crate was half a block away on the pier, and five crates, stacked two at a time, blocked the sailors' view from the boat.

The girl's forlorn appearance and loneliness tugged at him, however. "Come here, little girl," he whispered urgently. "I'll get you to safety." The girl obeyed, and Tatara put a finger to his lips, telling her to be absolutely silent. He lowered his back so she could climb on. "Don't let go, and don't talk until I say it's ok."

Tatara waited until the sailors were distracted with loading a crate, then he leapt over the burnt wall, keeping his eyes only on the closest crate. In a second he'd arrived at the crate. Severing the nails neatly, Tatara slid aside the lid as quietly and swiftly as he could. Inside were textiles, and he tossed the top layer into the water to make room for himself and the girl, who still clung to his back. He heard the cart rolling down the ramp and away from the ship. They were returning for more crates.

With a perfectly timed jump, he heaved himself into the box, and the girl fell off his back onto the textiles. Tatara tossed some on top of her, then slid the lid back on top. "Are you all right?" he asked the girl, his voice no louder than a puff of air. "Yes," responded the girl just as quietly. Burying himself in the textiles, Tatara silently prayed for two things: that the lid wouldn't shift, and that the captain would be greedy enough not to leave until all the crates were aboard.

Four more times his ears listened to the cart's wheels scrape against the pier's wood, and the sailors cursing as they hurried to finish the loading. Then only the boat's humming for several minutes. Tatara tensed, trying to tell if the boat had departed already. "What—" the girl began to say, but Tatara shushed her.

"Damn the captain!" yelled a sailor nearby. The cart's wheels rattled, as if it was being pushed at a full run. Tatara groped for the girl, and hugged her to him. He'd stocked textiles against the top, hoping that would help keep the lid in place. "Stay quiet no matter what happens," he whispered into the girl's ear. "I'll be here." The box jolted, wavered, and clanged onto the cart heavily. Tatara felt the cart roll, straight at first, then a turn, and the contents shifted slightly downwards as the cart began its ascent up the ramp.

"Fucking port is burning down, and it has to be the heaviest box last," muttered a sailor. Tatara didn't know Hothan yet, but the bitter tone carried across the box's walls well.

"What in Ghobrin are the Zi Aldans thinking, burning their best port?" wondered a second sailor, as the cart's wheels bumped over the deck's threshold. "Some kind of civil war, though damned if I understand it," answered the first sailor, turning the cart towards the cargo elevator.

"Last one! Kick off the ramp now!" yelled a third sailor. The ship bobbed, and the engine rose to a high-pitched thrum. The ship was leaving at last. Even so, Tatara didn't relax until the box finally stopped moving after the sailors placed it in the cargo hold.

_Lhasa_

Deep inside the cliff that supported the Shoma estate, Rhezu comforted Honlon as best as he could. "Shurunu was like a mommy to me!" wailed Dzore, burying her blotchy face in her hands. "What will we do now?"

"Dzore, I felt that way when my mother died, too," said Rhezu. She tensed, and when she looked up, her teeth were bared.

"Wait a minute," hissed Khagame. "If your mother is dead, and I'm your sister, that means my _real _mother is also dead?"

"Oh, crap!" Rhezu cursed himself. "Moron!"

"You asshole!" growled Khagame, lunging at him. "You thought that would comfort me?" Red and white stars flashed in Rhezu's eyes when a solid punch landed in his face. He fell over backwards, with Khagame on top throwing more wild blows. She cracked his nose before he finally managed to grab both her wrists and pin her to the floor.

"Look, I'm sorry!" Blood dripped onto Honlon's tee from Rhezu's nose. "I really am," continued Rhezu, "but I did not kill Shurunu, so stop attacking me!" He panted and fought through the pain. His right eye was beginning to swell shut already. "Let me speak to Horiko."

"Dzore and I told you, dummy—she's not coming out," spat Khagame, wriggling under his grip.

"Horiko! Come out, please," beseeched Rhezu, ignoring Khagame. After ten more minutes of holding the belligerent girl down, her body turned limp in his hands. Her expression slackened, transforming from a ferocious glare into unseeing despair in seconds. "Horiko? Is it you?" asked Rhezu, cautiously loosening his fingers from her wrists. When he let go, her arms slumped onto the ground. The sight tugged at Rhezu so much that he almost wished that Khagame would return, fighting him. "Horiko!"

When she didn't respond, he waved his hand in front of her face. She kept looking at the ceiling. "Shurunu's gone now," she finally mumbled. Rhezu sighed. "I know, Horiko. But remember, you've still got two brothers and a father left."

"She was the only real parent I ever had," whispered Horiko.

"Then I'll have to reunite you with Dad," said Rhezu, standing up. The lightheadedness made him wobble unsteadily at first, but he willed it away. "I'll take you to the Shoma estate now. You shouldn't be alone, especially in these rooms." When she didn't move to take his proffered hand, he crouched and put her arm around his shoulder. He managed to get her more or less on her feet, and began leading her towards the double doors. It would be the first time Honlon had ever left her rooms.

The massive tremors jolted Khureno into an upright position. He'd not slept well anyway, and the quake conclusively ended any chances of real sleep. His Kirin's blood kept telling him that significant events were happening, though of course he had no idea what. Gazing into the gloom beyond his magnificent bed, Khureno's mind drifted back to the days when he and Sharlen were little and Seki still appeared all-powerful.

_"Do you know where a flame tree's life force comes from?"_

_"From me?" _

_"No, Khureno. Blood is what keeps a flame tree alive." _

_"Where does the blood come from?"_

_"You are too young to know, my darling. Perhaps when you grow up, I shall tell you."_

Seki did tell Khureno when the young Kirin reached his fifteenth year. By then, he already knew that Seki killed humans from outside the family to feed a mysterious tree called Old Blood. Sharlen passed this information on to Khureno, and the revelation repulsed him. It finally coalesced his vague fear of Seki into a palpable reason for hating his guardian. That moment was the beginning of almost ten years spent resenting Seki.

However, Seki told Khureno a fact that gave him pause about condemning his guardian completely. "I can see that you dislike the idea of sacrifices to Old Blood," Seki had said with a wink in his voice. "But please consider that Old Blood cannot maintain its proper strength without a Sakurazukamori to feed it fresh blood. If Old Blood were to weaken, you would also shrivel in both mind and body, and eventually perish raving mad."

His devilish grin widened. "You have heard many stories about the family curse now. How the Dzuni gods, the family heads, were born small and weak, fated to suffer illness all their lives and feared by their relatives, and to die insane before their 25th birthdays. They died because they were possessed by the Kirin's spirit, which was cut off from Old Blood. A Kirin trapped in such a pathetic body cannot survive long." Seki patted Khureno's cheek. "So the next time you hear a tale about how cruel Shoma Asheno was, remember that the same spirit that possesses you once possessed him." Seki paused with his hand on the doorknob. "One more thing, Khureno. What I have just told you is a secret that Sakurazukamoris tell only to the Kirin. There are certain things that the entire Dzuni does not need to know." Inclining his head, he said, "I am sure you understand. Sleep well, Khureno."

A shiver ran through Khureno's body as he recalled that conversation. Strange that he should think of it now. It'd kept him from lashing out at Seki for a while, but soon enough the young Khureno returned to wishing for freedom and his parents. Pushing the covers off, the Kirin sighed and stepped out of his bed. He groped for his silk robe in the darkness and found it on his dressing table chair.

As he tied the sash, he realized that the weight of Seki's restraining spell had lifted from his body. He couldn't tell how long the sensation had been gone. He waited and waited, and still the sensation did not return. A spring of hope began to well up inside Khureno. He walked somnolently towards his front doors, and flicked the lights on in the entrance hall. The galloping Kirin in the plaque seemed to flex its muscles, and the change in light made its eyes of gold gleam. The quake had jiggled one of the doors open, and a thin column of darkness hinted at the world beyond his apartments.

He put his eye to the crack, and after a minute made out the general shape of a tunnel. The tunnel to the outside world. Khureno's ivory hand drew the door wider and wider, until he could make out panels on the walls and ceilings, and the bareness of the floor.

_"Go, you fool,"_ the engraved Kirin seemed to scold, _"You have waited your entire life. Why do you hesitate now? You are the Kirin, the master of Thika Mountain and all animals, not a feeble child."_

Emboldened, Khureno strode over the threshold. No crashing weight came to punish him, and he kept walking down the tunnel. There was only one way to go, so he could not get lost. He did not know whom he would encounter, or even where he was, but he was the Kirin. He would find his place eventually.

Soon he reached the towering doors to Honlon's apartments. For a minute he admired the carved dragons, and wondered if a Dzuni lived here. He was about to knock when his ears heard somebody say further up the tunnel, "Come on, Honlon, you have to walk too. I can't carry you the whole way."

Rhezu startled when he heard strong footsteps headed his way. Turning around slowly with Honlon dragging across his shoulders, he saw a taller man in a gold robe that shone even in the tunnel's dimness round the corner and come into view. The regal posture, the gem-studded streamer woven into his thick plait, and the supreme confidence exuded by the newcomer nearly compelled Rhezu into bowing deeply.

"Do you need help?" asked Khureno, sensing that the beaten-up man posed no danger. It was the first time he'd seen a person in such a condition, and Khureno eyed the swelling eye and bloody nose with a discreet fascination. He shook his black plait onto his back.

"Yeah, I'd appreciate it," said Rhezu, who stared at Khureno's strange eyes in turn.

"Allow me." Khureno scooped Honlon up in his arms as if she were a rag doll. When he looked into her unresponsive face, his blood instinctively responded to her, and he knew that he had just met another Dzuni.

"You're a Dzuni, aren't you?" Rhezu's question broke Khureno's wandering thoughts.

"Yes, my name is Shoma Khureno," he responded quietly. "I am the Kirin. And you are?"

"Ashu Rhezanu." He suddenly felt small next to the legendary Kirin, whom he had previously thought existed only in the ancient stories. "So you've finally escaped from Seki."

Khureno looked at the other man closely, and frowned. "Are you a Dzuni? You look like one."

"Oh, no, my father's the boar. I just look like him, that's all." Rhezu laughed lamely. "Right now I'm not nearly as good-looking as he is." The Kirin took in the black eye and the broken nose, and chuckled.

"What happened to Honlon?" asked Khureno. He shifted her so that her head would rest more comfortably against his shoulder.

Rhezu sighed. "She's my younger sister. One of her personalities died. I'll explain it later; it's kind of complicated." They walked in silence, each sunk in their own thoughts. Rhezu led Khureno through the storeroom corridors, and up the basement stairs into the kitchen.

The servants gasped at the sight of Rhezu with an unknown man carrying an unknown woman. But Khureno didn't mind them; instead, he set Honlon gently in a chair and rushed to a tiny rectangular window above a stockpile of pots and pans. The sun had risen fully by now, and the rays created a light patch on the stone floor. Khureno stood on it, and gazed wonderingly at the window. "The sun is beautiful," he whispered.


	22. Chapter 21

Disclaimer: I don't own FB, TB, PSOH, or anything else you recognize.

**Chapter 21**—_The Sea of Zi Alda_

The crossing took nearly a month to complete, but Tatara and the girl, Jendelin, stayed in the cargo hold all day and had no sense of the time's passage. Luckily, the galley was located next to the cargo hold, so Tatara could sneak food while no one was in there. The sailors rarely ventured into the galley, and usually remained occupied on the upper decks.

Tatara and Jendelin talked little during the first two weeks. Both were still wrapped in their traumas, and focused on keeping themselves hidden from the crew. Tatara would watch vigilantly for rats—he could recover easily from their bites, but the girl was a normal _borustang_ and didn't possess his healing powers.

In the third week, Jendelin began to ask Tatara questions from boredom and curiosity about this older boy who saved her. He answered only in monosyllables, and listened patiently while Jendelin told him about her life and family. She had been born and raised in Zostu, the youngest in a family of seven. Tatara learned about her proud elder sisters and playful brothers in excruciating detail. "Do you think they're all right?" she asked one day.

Tatara answered right away: "Yes. They probably went to a different place, and we'll meet them again sometime." Her happy smile broke his heart as he returned the smile weakly. He didn't think she needed to know the truth now. The fires and shooting spared very few _borustange_.

That moment made him start thinking about the future. The ship's final destination eluded him, but one thing was certain: he and Jendelin would not know anybody in the new country. Tatara had never traveled further than five miles from Strelyba before this monstrous upheaval, and here he was, crossing the great sea with a child he'd never met before. The realization staggered his practical mind.

During the fourth week, Tatara decided to try to find out where they were going, which required leaving the cargo hold. After telling Jendelin to stay quiet and to stay put, Tatara cautiously made his way to the upper deck. He kept his ears honed for any sign of an approaching sailor.

Once on the main deck, Tatara climbed onto the bridge's roof and lay flat on it, looking towards the boat's stern. His internal compass told him that the ship was now veering from its southwesterly course to a due south course. The night felt cooler, like Zi Alda in the fall, but the breeze carried a soft bite that Zi Aldan breezes did not have. Goosebumps rose on his skin.

_Lhasa, Late Friday Morning_

Khureno stood with Sharlen in the northwest corner of the garden. Since the restraining spell disintegrated, Khureno felt his long-oppressed Kirin instincts reviving progressively. One of these instincts was the ability to tell when problems hounded a Dzuni. This particular ability overwhelmed Khureno at first—he'd sensed Tatara's sickness, the emotional turmoil of at least half the Dzuni, and Honlon's bottomless grief, for starters. And there were his own emotions to consider, but he would have plenty of time to reunite with his parents, so they could wait. But he had practically grown up with Sharlen as his brother.

He listened, gazing at the withered mound of blossoms around Old Blood's trunk, as Sharlen tearfully poured out the story of the potion. "I can't face Halina, Dhuzie, Setu…or my parents…I raped her, Khureno."

"No, you did not," enunciated Khureno precisely, looking straight into the maneater's maroon eyes. He noticed that Sharlen's lips had a bluish tinge. "This wasn't your fault, Sharlen. Both you and she drank that potion. If not you, either Setu or Dhuzel would've been involved instead. That's what Seki intended, I think. And you need to drink blood soon, you're beginning to look like death."

Sharlen stared at the fallen flowers, and kicked a pile. The wrinkled flowers scattered and floated slowly back to earth. "He shouldn't have meddled like this!" ranted Sharlen, half-sobbing. "If he wanted her to be our mate, there was no need to do something this repulsive!" He collapsed onto the grass, and Khureno helped him up again.

"She hasn't awakened, correct?"

"No," said Sharlen, his head reeling. He had yet to recover fully from the potion's lingering effects. Khureno supported Sharlen, and walked his old friend back to the main house. "Listen to me, Sharlen," whispered Khureno. "it was not your fault, and right now you should rest and enjoy your family. Do you understand?" The vampire's head bobbled when he nodded.

"Why hasn't Khureno come to see us yet?" demanded Hotohori, inside the sickroom's door. Sheleru stammered, trying to explain her beloved older brother's absence. Khosure stood behind his wife, tense and saying nothing. Hatsuharu and Shuro, staying by Tatara's bed, did their best to ignore the brewing conflagration.

Laren jumped into the conversation, and perched on Sheleru's shoulder. "Khureno's just acting on his natural impulses to help the Dzunis with the worst problems first."

"But we haven't even seen him yet!" blurted Khosure.

"Don't worry, I assure you—" Laren fell silent as a resonant baritone in the entrance hall ordered Dhuzel to take Sharlen upstairs. "He's coming in here!"

"Khureno!" exclaimed Sheleru, jumping into her brother arms as soon as he swung the door open. She squealed when he lifted her off the floor. "Broken anything lately?" he asked, grinning and shedding his kingly aura for a split second. Every other conscious person in the room stared at the newcomer, and Khureno quickly noticed. "Please stop bowing," he ordered Laren, who raised her head but continued to regard him with reverence.

"Khureno! Khureno!" babbled Sheleru at high speed, "This is Mom and Dad, they've been waiting to see you for so long and they were wondering why you hadn't come yet and you're finally here and—"

"Shut up, Shel." Now Khureno met his parents' stunned looks, and gave them a radiant smile. They didn't need to speak while they embraced.

_The Sea of Zi Alda_

Having settled comfortably onto the bridge's roof, Tatara peered into the blackness. His eyes were still adjusting, and he could only make out a darkish gray sea and an even darker sky above it. Then the wind pushed the few remaining clouds aside, revealing a full moon. Tatara now saw hundreds of stars winking down at him, and the moon's pearly reflection flickered across the waves.

There was nothing to the west as Tatara scanned the horizon. But the view to his right stirred him to risk standing for a better view.

The wind riffled his greasy hair and the torn, stained clothing. This was not the hot, violent wind that blew from the fires tearing apart Zi Alda; it was the cold, flinty wind belonging to the Ice Country. The wind seemed to sail down the massive silhouettes of mountains that dwarfed the eastern hills. They rose, these mountains, like monoliths behind the city whose white and blue lights danced on the water in the distance. The colors of winter. Tatara moved from the lights high on the southern cliffs, to the intensely glowing patch of the downtown, to the guidelights of the northern port, the lowest section of Lhasa. It was a living city; the brightness signified people going about their daily routines, not murdering each other.

The mountain wind carried a low howling in its wake, and seemed to sing, "We winds are harsh and unforgiving, we grind down the most stubborn stone and uproot the oldest trees, but something new always grows in the empty places left behind."

"Tatara."

The voice pierced the wind's song like a knife shredding through a silk curtain. The lights lining the cliffs blinked, and the stars faded. "No! No!" shouted Tatara, forgetting that he had to be silent or the sailors would hear him. "No!" The pitch-black mountains swallowed the beautiful picture of Lhasa at night.

"Tatara," spoke the voice again. He couldn't place its owner—it had the ring of a person used to giving orders. "Calm down; you're with friends." A big hand touched his shoulder, and he gasped. But the ship vanished underneath his feet, and the world turned into a grayish-yellow vortex. Tatara fell into the vortex's yawning mouth, and lost consciousness.

When he came to again, an enormous stone fireplace with ashes in its grate stared bleakly back at him. The room was painted red, and varnished paneling ran from wall to wall. He heard whispering from the opposite end of the room, but his ears couldn't process it. The unfamiliar hand touched his shoulder again. It belonged to Khureno, whom Tatara had not seen in ten years. He would've thought the Kirin a ghost sent to torment him at first, if not for the distinctive blue flare around the eyes. "You look much stronger now, Khureno," muttered Tatara approvingly. His voice came out as a rattle.

"How do you feel, Tatara?" inquired Khureno. Tatara blinked, trying to resolve the fuzzy edges of Khureno's face. A dull ache simmered in his belly. "Sore," replied Tatara. "Where am I?"

Khureno let the question pass. "Tatara, what is the last thing you remember before

you became ill?"

His head dropped back on the pillow, and he groaned. For the first time, Tatara noticed that his face felt wet and grainy from tears. "I'm in Lhasa, aren't I?" he asked, suddenly afraid.

"Yes, you're safe in Lhasa."

"The last thing I remember…" He squinted, trying to concentrate. The disorientation from the flashbacks made it difficult, but snippets began to return: _You are strong, you will live_…Seki. "He told me that I would live," mumbled Tatara. "Seki told me goodbye, serve the Dzuni well."

"Yes?" prompted Khureno, watching intently as the prostrate _borustang_'s expression grew more distressed.

"You must return to Strelyba and make peace with your past, Tatara." The words flowed, with a vengeful ease, from Tatara's memory. He broke down sobbing. "Why did I live, Khureno? I'm branded, I'm no good, and they're all dead…"

"Absolutely not, Tatara!" retorted Khureno. "You're with your real family now. The only reason you feel worthless is because Seki encouraged you to think that way." Khureno leaned closer to the shocked man, whispering vehemently. "Think about it, Tatara. Seki wanted to keep you away from your real parents, and I myself heard him tell you that because you'd been cut, you could never face your parents again. Sharlen will back me up; he also heard the way Seki talked to you. This is Hoth, not Zi Alda. There's no need to cling to such punishing customs here.

"You aren't useless—you saved the life of another _borustang_—"

"How do you know about Jendelin?" Seki had gotten rid of her even before he brought Tatara to Khureno's apartments, and as far as Tatara knew, Seki had never told any of the Dzunis about Jendelin. He hadn't talked about her, either.

"Shoma Hatsuharu--" Khureno paused, and added, "your real father—opened an office where refugee _borustange_ could testify about the atrocities, and inquire about friends and relatives. Jendelin stopped by, wanting to know where you were. Seki apparently gave her to a kind Zi Aldan woman who lives in Lhasa. She'll be happy to hear that you're well." Smiling, Khureno turned to someone in the back that Tatara couldn't see.

"As I was saying," continued Khureno, "you've been a wonderful brother to Beri, who's been very worried about you, and from what I hear, you've kept your police partner from dying numerous times. No doubt your supervisor would like you back on the force as soon as you recover." Tatara's anemic chuckle gladdened the Kirin. "I'd say you were actually more useful when Seki discovered that he could no longer imprison us indefinitely, and started letting you out in the real world. You can help familiarize us with Hothan life, Tatara. I, for one, would appreciate it very much. I only just left my rooms for the very first time this morning, and it's been wonderful."

Tatara agreed, "It was wrong, your being shut up and separated from the rest of the Dzuni."

Khureno cleared his throat. "However, I do have to say that Seki and I shared the same opinion about one thing. You have to come to terms with your past somehow. But I don't believe that almost killing you, the method Seki used, works. We can discuss this later—I don't want to tire you, and I've already talked for so long. Rest now." Tatara nodded thankfully and fell asleep right away. His physical injuries required more time to heal, and his emotional ones were just beginning to.

Later that afternoon, Halina awoke from her unnatural sleep, much to everyone's joy. The events of her last meeting with Seki remained vivid and bizarre, and she recounted them to the entire Dzuni as best as she could. For the rest of Halina's life, she would wonder if it had really happened, or if it was just a protracted dream.

_Darkness. Like the first time Seki approached her—no contours, no lines, no shadows, no vestiges of everyday life, but a pure nothingness. Her feet came into contact against something hard, an invisible floor. Halina wavered several times as she explored the strange world, since she had no frame of reference to tell her if she stood upright or not. _

_The thing that frightened Halina the most, however, was not the darkness. An utter silence reigned, an absence of sound so complete that she was sure that deafness felt like this. It pressed on her from all sides, like a claustrophic room. "Is anybody there?" The stillness sucked the words greedily into itself; not even a faint echo bounced back to Halina. When she saw Seki in this world last time, she always heard the wind whistling and whooshing, and flame tree blossoms soared on its currents._

_Once she panicked and ran, and her nightgown tripped her and sent her flying across the unseen ground. For a long time she remained in a fetal position, willing herself to wake up in her apartment, or her mother's house, or Uncle Haku's house, any familiar place. She cried herself to sleep._

_The sound of labored breathing woke her, and her eyes opened to find Seki lying on his back next to her, his hands neatly folded across his stomach. She gasped, and scuttled away backwards, thinking he was dead at first. Then she realized that the wheezing came from him._

_His lips moved soundlessly. Halina stared at him, the skeletal hollows in his cheeks and eyes, the deathly white skin, the cracked lips, bony joints in what had once been graceful fingers. The rising of his chest was nearly impossible for the naked eye to see now. She could not help feeling sorry for this man who had wrongfully abducted babies and murdered countless souls._

_"Halina." The barely audible croak disturbed the perfect stillness. "I am about to die." She crawled closer to Seki, and stopped within arm's reach when she saw the dagger under his hands. "Please…" The eyelids opened halfway, and Halina could see the chocolate irises underneath. "Listen to the last words of the thirty-fourth Sakurazukamori." The corners of his lips turned upwards. _

_"My last request," he rasped, "is that you live happily with the maneaters. You have enough love for all three." Halina began to speak, but Seki quieted her. "Time is against me; let me speak. Tell Sharlen that what happened is not his fault. You will understand what I mean later. Please be patient with him. It will take a long time for his guilt to wilt away._

_"And now, I shall give you my confession, Halina." He laughed derisively, and ended gasping. Mastering his breathing again, Seki spoke. "This body is merely a shell for me; my real body died 550 years ago. Even I cannot keep this body alive infinitely, as I once foolishly thought. I have always been a fool." His face contorted, whether from pain or emotion Halina could not say. The rest escaped between gritted teeth: "I was a fool to think that I could make up for failing to save the Dzuni 550 years ago." One hand freed itself, shaking violently. Halina instinctively reached for it, to comfort Seki. _

_"Please tell…Sharlen and Khureno and the others…it was a pleasure knowing them." A rattle, and froth trickled out of the corner of his mouth. "And you too, Halina. I wish you the best of luck." Despite his fast failing strength, he gripped her hand like a vise. The dagger flashed and she yelped, but he had only stuck it into her hand. He cocked his head back, hearing a voice from above that Halina couldn't hear. Giggling, he turned back to her. "Old Blood calls me. Farewell, Halina, and remember, never trust a sorcerer." He still had his hands wrapped around hers, which held the blade, and he jerked her forward with a last burst of strength, and the dagger plunged deep into his heart. Sakurazuka Sezuko died instantly. No blood welled out of the wound. _

_Halina trembled, horrorstricken. Then her nightgown's collar fluttered, and a rush of air brushed her cheek. The baby breeze swelled into a gale that pushed her off Seki's body. She fought to breathe in the wind, strong enough for Hoth's notorious harithes, as it recklessly tossed her about in the air. When she last saw Seki, a colonnade of flame tree flowers had wrapped itself around him and was slowly breaking apart his body to feed Old Blood._


	23. Epilogue

Disclaimer: I don't own TB, FB, PSOH, or anything else you recognize.

The last chapter! Thanks for reading—I will be on hiatus for a while since I'm just starting school again next week.

**Epilogue**

The mountain winds roared and pounded Lhasa, and a thin layer of ice coated its coastline. Snow deep enough to swallow a small child rested in the backyards of the great mansions in Mhagenu. In autumn, the servants had renewed the windows' seals and stocked up on firewood. Everybody agreed that it was a hard winter this year. Already there had been three major blizzards. But the New Year festivities at the Shoma house continued, unhindered by the inclement weather.

At midnight on New Year's Day, Shoma Khureno, presiding over his first Dzuni banquet, delivered the ceremonial opening statement. Then the feasting began. The blackwood table was filled to capacity this year, with all 26 Dzuni having taken their places. The younger Dzuni occupied one half, and the older Dzuni had the other half. The seating had naturally worked out that way—the traditional ceremony required the Dzuni to sit in a certain order.

Khureno watched as everyone scooped hearty stews, rich gravies, succulent vegetables, and drank alcohol freely. He could hardly keep from chuckling when a tipsy Sharlen spilled his wine into the lap of Tatara, who glanced at the vampire distastefully. The youngest Dzuni held noisy conversations with their parents by yelling across the table. Lafidzi remained silent, of course, but Laren sat with her. Luckily Rhosu possessed an innate talent for sensing her taciturn daughter's feelings. That had worked out extremely well.

The Kirin's eye shifted to Beri, straightening a kink in her back and yawning. No doubt the warm room and her advanced pregnancy were taking their toll. She snapped at Hatsuharu as he asked after her health yet again. She wouldn't stay much longer. Halina was also expecting at the same time as Beri, and the future baby boom excited everyone. Hotohori and Khosure planned a surprise shower for the two women that would be held next week. Khureno had already heard the maneaters moan about Halina's bizarre midnight cravings for chocolate ice cream many times.

Privately, he worried about the maneaters and Rhezu for different reasons. Rocky times were likely in store for Rhezu and Beri, since the young man couldn't tolerate cold temperatures for very long. Sharlen smiled and joked and teased people much as he had before, but Khureno sometimes caught him in a state of melancholy when watching Halina from afar. Although they wouldn't admit it, Khureno knew that Dhuzel and Setu subconsciously blamed Sharlen for what had happened. Additionally, Dhuzel still hated Seilieze, whose butterflies milled around the banquet rooms.

"Pipe down, Dzore!" The shout drew Khureno's and everyone else's attention to Honlon, who was tugging her hair. Even Sira's jaguars, napping in a corner, raised their heads. Then Honlon broke down wailing as Dzore took over from Khagame. She stopped abruptly and yelled, "Both of you stop it right now!" Thus Horiko restored order. Honlon had recovered nicely from Shurunu's passing, but the identity of the new demon, who steadfastly refused to appear, remained a mystery.

"Aren't you going to eat, Khureno?" asked Tatara.

"Of course." Khureno piled the delicious food onto his plate, which portrayed a Kirin surrounded by flame tree blossoms. Each Dzuni had his or her own specially designed dish sets now. The antique dishes came from Khureno's storerooms, where they'd sat for centuries before reemerging.

Shuro, sitting to Khureno's right, leaned over and whispered to him, "Do you think Tatara will marry Jendelin soon? He won't tell me anything." Jendelin had been very patient and persistent in wooing a very reluctant Tatara, who had eventually succumbed to her pleasant personality. She'd grown into a friendly, open woman—a vast change from the frightened little girl on the ship.

"I wouldn't be concerned," replied Khureno. Shuro beamed delightedly, and Tatara glared at Khureno balefully.

"Oh, loosen up, Tatara," admonished Sharlen, nudging the _borustang_. "You see her practically every day now." He yelped loudly as Tatara shoved him off his chair entirely. Laughter erupted, made easier by wine. "No violence, please," called Haku flippantly.

Yes, life had improved since Seki died and they left their cages behind. Only one thing still niggled at Khureno's mind: the Sakurazukamori's final words to Halina. Beware of sorcerers. Were there others who could harm the Shoma family? Would there be another Sakurazukamori, and if so, was that what Seki was referring to? These questions weighed heavily on the Kirin's mind. But for tonight, he forgot his concerns as he raised a glass to toast the first New Year banquet with all the Dzuni.


End file.
